It had been a very uneventful trip so far, and that was entirely to Steven's liking. The thought of going to Somerdon was bad enough without considering all the bandits and pirates which likely lay between them and the mountain. Steven sat back on the rough wooden bench the mail cart reserved for passengers. It faced backwards down the road they came from and behind the mail bags, which were considered pound for pound more valuable.

The general idea for this backwards facing seat was that the passengers would then be able to keep an eye out for any bandits looking to sneak up on the cart.

What Steven would be able to do about bandits was never brought up. Their driver hadn’t given Steven any sort of a weapon and Steven had never practiced with the shillelah his father had pressed into his hands as they’d left. Nana was using it instead of her walking canes now and he didn’t like the idea of accidentally knocking her over trying to grab it.

“How are you doing, Grandma?”

Nana gave a snort and jerked awake. “Mer? What?”

“ I asked how you were doing.”

Nana seemed to consider this. She shifted in her seat, took in the play of light on the leaves, the sound of birdsong in the air, and the feeling of the cool breeze on her face. She reached a decision. “My ass hurts. Can this damn thing go any faster?”

“I don’t know. You could try and make the bench softer.”

She snorted. “I‘d probably set the whole damn thing on fire.”

“We could turn around.”

This earned Steven a righteous glaring from Nana. “You keep that up and you’ll feel the flat of my hand boy.”

“Yes, Grandma.” It wasn’t that Steven expected Nana to agree to turn back. The trip had already taken a serious chunk out of their money and they still needed to swap carts three more times. It was that, with nothing else to do, Steven’s mind kept wandering back to the image of his father. He was standing by the door looking out over the road with a worried frown on his face.

Days passed in a flash in the tortured depths of Steven's guilty mind. He would see his father standing outside wind, snow or rain. Which was ridiculous, it was almost June. Chances were, his father was actually spending his time at the forage or in the field. He might occasionally stop and wonder what was happening to Steven, but he wouldn’t be worried, would he? Around Steven’s mind would go again.

“It’ll be dark soon, do you think the cart will make it to an inn tonight, or will it be another night under the stars?” asked Nana.

Steven looked gloomily back the way they had come. “If they are, the board wouldn’t be included. It’s probably going to be stars for us regardless.”

Nana let out a rattling yawn and rapped her stick on the side of the cart, earning her a glare from the driver over his shoulder.

“Oi young fellow, stop the cart for a moment and let an old woman off to give back to nature won't you?”

He pulled on the reigns and Nana slid off the bench. Two weeks ago she wouldn’t have tried something like that but it barely hurt now, godhood suited her.

Steven jumped off the wagon as well, just to keep an eye on her, and the two moved off of the road a ways. He picked up a likely looking stick to drag behind the wagon and idly began snapping branches off of it while his grandmother went a little further into the forest. A moment later there was a bright flash of light from the road and the sounds of screaming horses. It was quickly replaced by the muted sounds of hoofbeats on dirt which gradually faded away. A ringing voice boomed out.

“MENERVA DISMAS, ATTEND TO ME.”

Steven was halfway back to the road before he became aware of the fact he had been moving at all. There was so much inherent authority in the voice that even without naming him specifically it made it clear he had no choice but to come. Steven glanced down at the ground and was only half surprised to find it alive with insects and small vermin, their tiny minds were incapable of breaking the power of that voice.

“Wonder who that is,” mused Nana from behind his shoulder.

Steven jerked, but managed not to scream.“ I don’t know Grandma, but look” he whispered pointing at the living carpet as it moved by.

She whistled through her tooth. “Well damn, would you look at that. I guess we'll just have to go see who it is that can pull off a trick like this.” She started to move past him but Steven put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, I think it scared off the cart Grandma. We need to be careful.” Nana shrugged off his hand but gave him a nod.

“Alright, but if it’s bandits we’re not swapping sticks.” She moved out onto the road.

There was indeed a figure out there. It was impossibly tall and ringed with all the little vermin that had heard its voice. They appeared to be bowing. The figure itself was wrapped in a sails worth of soft white fabric bound by golden chains. Its black tanned hands were festooned with rings of burnished metal and over its face was a gilded mask that was hammered into the likeness of a middle aged male, its mouth and eyes almost, but not quite, closed. Steven could see lips and teeth behind the mouth of the mask, but there was no chance of seeing eyes through the slits because the light pouring out of them was far too bright. In the dying day they cast lines of brilliant light, like twin lighthouses. That spotlight gaze fell upon the two travelers and the ranks of massed vermin moved aside to make way.

“COME.”

Steven couldn’t have stopped himself any more than the insects could have earlier. They walked down the aisle made for them and stopped a dozen paces in front of the figure, who pinned them with his golden gaze.

“Evening,” chirped Nana.

Steven shut his eyes. He could see the veins running through his eyelids.

“I HAVE BEEN INFORMED BY GREAT RYLAN THAT YOU WILL NOT COMPLY WITH OUR WISHES,” boomed the tall man.

“I didn’t know you had any, oh…” she let the implied question dangle.

“I AM GREAT VOMAR. GOD OF LIGHT AND YOU SHALL ADDRESS ME AS LORD.”

“I see, my Lord, and what exactly were your wishes?”

“THAT YOU SHALL PICK A VISAGE MORE BEFITTING A GOD. ALSO THAT YOU MAY REFRAIN FROM ARROGANCE AND FLIPPENTRY WHEN ADDRESSING WISER BEINGS THAN YOURSELF. YOU ARE BUT A FLEDGELING WHILE OTHERS HAVE GROWN STRONG AND CUNNING WITH TIME. DO NOT THINK YOURSELF INVULNERABLE LEST YOU BE PROVEN WRONG.”

Nana seemed to consider this for a moment. Her mouth working up and down, appearing to ruminate on some invisible morsel. “Do you often listen to your own advice, my Lord?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Steven wondered how painfully someone could be killed with light. Probably pretty painfully. Like an all-over, terminal sunburn. He tried shutting his eyes again, it didn’t help make him feel better.

“WHAT?” The small creatures of the forest scattered to the shelter of the bushes. A panicked centipede attempted to find safety in Steven's pant leg, but achieved the bushes instead powered through the air by a swift kick.

“I said,” repeated Nana completely unabashed, “Do you often listen to your own advice, my Lord? It seemed to be a pretty simple question.”

“CHOOSE THY NEXT WORDS CAREFULLY CRONE.” The words came out cold and flat, but Nana was good at ignoring things she didn’t want to notice.

“It’s just that, you come here. You scare off our ride, which I hope you plan to pay the difference for, demand that I change, and then tell me I’m arrogant?”

“I AM THE KING OF THE GODS OLD WOMAN”

“See, that’s just the sort of attitude I am talking about.”

“I WARN YOU ONE LAST TIME OLD WOMAN. DO AS I SAY OR YOU SHALL BE UTTERLY OBLITERATED.” Nana opened her mouth to argue but never got the chance. Before she could say anything Vomar raised his hand and shot out a beam of light that punched right through her and Steven. Steven fell to his knees and tried to protect his head but it was no good. He could feel the light and heat go right through his arms. It didn’t matter if his eyes were open or closed. All he could see, all he could feel, was light. Harsh, horrible light that blistered his skin and boiled the cartilage between his bones. The pain seemed to go on forever.

Just when he thought it was all over, blessed cold air wrapped itself around him. The light dimmed but didn’t entirely fade away. Steven opened his eyes and looked around. The world was, odd. The light hadn’t so much dimmed as been mixed with darkness, like ink being stirred into milk. The effect was a gray, dead light.

“Great Vomar, what is the meaning of this?”

Steven shivered. If Vomars voice was clad in authority, this voice was cast from pure certainty. It was a sickly, smooth certainty that implied that it had seen everything you ever were, and would be, a long time ago, and hadn’t been impressed even then.

Steven knew who that voice belonged to. All living things knew that voice in their very bones and feared it. It was Demitri, Shepherd of the Dead. Steven did not want to look up. No sane creature would have wanted to look up, but he had to. For the same reason a person has to get closer to the edge, or has to look at a nasty accident, Steven had to look up.

Not much of Demitri could be seen, he wore the very darkness, but what little that was visible through the gloom was not a pretty sight. He was lily-pale, and bald. His marble eyes would have blended in completely, had they not had a wet shine to them. He had no nose, or mouth, just three sets of horizontal slits that slowly expanded and contracted as he breathed. In his branch-like hands, bifurcating at the elbow into two sets of forearms, he held his crook. Steven couldn’t help but notice its inner curve was sharpened.

“GREAT DEMITRI, THIS CONCERNS THEE NOT. LEAVE.”

“So you say, oh Lord. But perhaps your wrath should be tempered.” Demitri ran a stickish finger along the curve of his crook. “Is this a precedent you wish to set? Should I begin to come for the gods themselves now?”

Vomar shivered, Steven would never have admitted he saw it but Vomar actually shivered.

“SHE MUST LEARN HER PLACE GREAT DEMITRI, HER ARROGANCE CANNOT STAND.” All of the boom and pomp was still there, but Steven was sure he could hear just a hint of a whine in the god-kings voice.

“Then, by all means, teach her, but not this way. This way cannot be allowed. God would fight god, mortal would fight mortal and all the world would go to ruin, then only I would rule. Do you want that?”

Vomar seemed to consider this, then nodded and turned his gaze upon Steven, who felt his heart fall right out of the bottom of the world.

“SHE SHALL BE PUNISHED OTHER WAYS.” Vomar raised his hand toward Steven.

Dimitri’s crook came down to block Vomar’s hands. “No, I will not claim him. He is hers, even if he does not know it yet. You cannot harm him directly either.”

The light pouring out of Vomer’s eye slits grew red and menacing, but he lowered his hand. Then he was gone. No bright flash, or loud noise to add drama to his departure. Unlike with Rylan, only two slightly smoking footprints bore witness that the God King having been there at all. Steven turned to look back at Dimitri, but he too was gone. Light and noise took a moment to fill in the space where he had stood.

Steven got unsteadily to his feet and brushed himself off. A few paces away Nana was still sprawled out on her back but was staring at him, concern etching her lined face.

“Are you ok Steven?”

He staggered over and held out his hand.

“Yes Grandma, I’m fine.”

She took it and let him help her up, but waved him away when he tried to brush her off. “Damn great bully, he had no right doing that to you, no right. Are you sure? Turn around and let me look.”

Steven did hurt, absolutely everywhere. The merciless light of Vomar felt like it had wedged itself between every joint in his body and pushed them apart. Even his hair hurt. But the look on Nana’s face had shaken him, and he didn’t want to admit his pains to her in case they made her think about turning around. Steven didn’t want her to go back. He still did what she asked however, if for no other reason than to put her mind at ease. She fussed over him for a moment or two, muttering to herself about not being pushed around, and how someone had “no right”. Eventually she let him go and looked him up and down. She seemed more herself now.

“Well”, she said at last, “Now what the hell do we do? If the cartman is right, we’re still at least three days away from Warcres and I doubt we can travel as fast as that.”

“Do you think you could, you know, do something about that?” asked Steven, trying to dance around the issue. Nana hadn’t tried to use her powers since the incident with the immolating chairs back when they were packing.

Nana sighed and stumped over to a nearby tree. She wasn’t sure how it was going to help her, but it at least meant she didn’t have to look at Steven while she thought. Nana narrowed her eyes and subjected the bark to close scrutiny. How did the gods go about using their powers anyway? Wizards burned things and priests prayed, but Vomar hadn’t invoked anything. She picked at a likely looking piece of bark and watched as it fell off. He had just waved his hand and blasted my grandson, damn him. Maybe their magic came from inside, like a sorcerer. That would make sense. Nana looked inside again. Like she had the night she’d almost burned the cottage down trying to shrink a set of armchairs.

She had to search a long time before finding it, but there, near the back of her mind, was a small fount. It was more of a trickle than a stream, but it poured a little bit of power into her. Now that she knew what to look for she could sense that it had poured enough into her to create a small pool of magic. She might be able to use it to do something, but what? Nana scratched her chin, making a sound like rubbing hedgehogs together and glanced down the road.

She thought of Rylan and Vomar. Those bastards seemed quite capable of moving from place to place without making a big fuss out of it. Maybe I could just teleport us to Warcres. I’d have to be careful not to end up in a wall or out at sea. She’d heard from a passing wizard once that teleportation magic was very expensive and tricky because, before you could teleport somewhere, you had to have been there already and left a marker. Damn silly idea, what’s the point if you’ve already been there. I doubt Vomar’s marked this patch of road ahead of time. She rubbed her head. Damn it, I’ll just try it over a short distance and see what happens. Nana reached inside herself and glanced down the road.

Steven eventually found her crumpled up in a thorn bush about a hundred yards off the road. She was badly bruised but in a foul temper, which meant there wasn’t anything seriously wrong with her.

“What happened?” He asked as he helped get her out.

“Damn magic, and it’s silly laws! What’s the use of being a god if you can’t break some rules? How the hell was I to know the damn landscape was going to jump out at me?” She kicked the bush irritably.

The whole experience had given her a nasty shock, like if a tree had mugged a man with a knife. One minute, Nana was concentrating on being about two hundred yards down the road, the next moment, she slammed into a tree, going at what felt like an appreciable fraction of the speed of light. She felt weak. Between the actual spell, and keeping herself from breaking bones, all the magic that had been inside her was gone. She needed to lay down and wait for it to come back to her. Nana leaned heavily against Steven for support as they wound their way back to the road.

In the next few days, the thornbush Nana had been yelling at was infested by beetles and died.