by
Marc H. Wyman & Chris Bogues
XXIV.
Council of Shadows
“First
of the Five,” a voice from nowhere said, “your plan is not working as
you promised.”
Decirius
nodded slightly, a gesture that none of his interlocutors could detect. He
was standing in a realm of shadows, one that not even his own power could
quite perceive. In the recesses of his mind, he knew that he was standing
within the confines of his own home, the realm that he had created inside
the Eternal City. From outside it looked like a mighty tower, a building
taller than all the others. Inside there seemed to be only a single room,
its walls lost within impenetrable darkness. All that existed there was
shrouded, invisible to each of Decirius’ lower gods who visited.
Normally Decirius knew every single item there, and he could navigate the
darkness easily.
Now,
though, he was as lost as the minor gods. All he could see was black.
Shadows seemed to dance within the dark zone, outlines that might
represent actual beings, yet none could be clearly seen. But there were
four deities present, four others to whom he was no more than one of those
twinkling, unclear shadows.
He
said, “There have been changes, yet the goal will still be reached,
Second of the Five.”
“I
am not sure of that,” Second answered. “Lógrims noticed your
scheme.”
Another
voice, belonging to Fourth, said, “He was defeated by your underlings,
First. The other abodes will mark that, even if they don’t take note of
the sapients appearing in the mortal world.”
Second
picked up the comment, “They cannot fail to realize that under-gods have
bested Lógrims. The dragon god will start to wail about this to others in
a short while.”
“True,”
Decirius admitted. “Yet he is too hurt now to do so. Do not forget, the
other abodes rarely take heed of what occurs outside their boundaries.
They are too concerned with their own business of creating animals and
plants.”
The
shadows milled about in the darkness, coalescing, separating, never enough
that a clear picture could be detected.
From
what seemed to be behind Decirius, Third of the Five said, “You have
said so before, First. But the sapients have not disturbed any dragons,
have they? Why then did Lógrims the dragon-god notice them?”
“The
other abodes are not as ignorant as you claimed,” Fifth of the Five
added.
Second
chimed in, “What about the measures you wanted to take? The measures to
distract the abodes?”
“Ah,
yes,” Decirius sighed. “The primary measure, in fact, were my
under-gods who defeated Lógrims.”
Cries
of surprise and anger rolled through the darkness. The shadowy dance
intensified for a moment, then Second of the Five shouted, “You have
defeated all of us, then! How dare you choose under-gods like those!
They raised a clarion call for the other abodes, to see what we are doing
and eradicate us – before we obtain the promised power!”
“Yes!”
Third yelled. “Where is that power? So many sapients loosened on
the mortal world, yet they don’t produce any new strength. How are we to
stand against the other abodes when they attack us?”
The
other voices agreed, shifting in strength and clarity as much as the
shadows in the world of darkness.
Decirius
cleared his throat. The noise had no effect on the fury of the shadows.
“Silence!” he thundered. “I have told you that it would take
time before we receive the new power! The sapients have to spawn first,
they have to grow their numbers. With every new life’s spark added, a
new flame of worship is lit before our feet, and it will add fuel to our
powers.”
“Old
words, First of the Five,” Third clamored. “We have no fuel now, and
the abodes will attack!”
Decirius
raised his hands and charged lightning into the darkness. The trembling
beams dissipated within moments, never reaching any target, but their
fiery remains danced for long moments within the shadows, trailing light
through the darkness. “The abodes do not know anything. My
under-gods have fought Lógrims, but that will not reveal our
plan.”
He
was a bit surprised to find that the cacophony subsided, and Decirius
pressed on with his statement, “They are concerned with the villagers,
the least of our creations. For all the time I’ve known Darawk and
Alyssa, the villagers were the primary interest. That is what they care
about, and that is what the other abodes will see. Now they have defeated
Lógrims, and in a short while, you are correct, the other abodes will
start looking for my under-gods.”
He
paused briefly. None of the other deities commented. “They will only see
the villagers, the ones whom Darawk and Alyssa defend. Since my abode –
as yours are, as well – are closed, the two of them will be perceived as
outcasts.”
“You
mean,” Fourth of the Five said thoughtfully, “that the other abodes
will blame only them? But they’re likely to place some of the blame on
our shoulders as well.”
“Yet
not all of the blame,” Second added. A shadow became more pronounced in
the rough direction from where Second’s voice was coming. “Perhaps the
other abodes will be sufficiently distracted by First’s under-gods that
they don’t realize the full extent of the plan. After all, they did
defeat Lógrims. The under-gods might be able to hold off the other abodes
for a while.”
“Hold
off the abodes?” Fifth interrupted angrily. “They are under-gods,
remember? They don’t have half the power of a single one of us! How
could they defend themselves against the onslaught of a full abode?”
“They
did against Lógrims,” Second retorted.
“The
dragon-god represents only a small abode!”
Second
snorted. “He still commands the power of an abode. To best him, to
outwit him, that means these under-gods may have some more tricks ready.
Is that so, First of the Five?”
Decirius
smiled. The council was starting to follow his lead again, finally. “I
have great faith in their abilities. That is why I chose them.”
“Good,”
Second answered, mollified. “We should still hurry our efforts to grow
the numbers of sapients. The midrealm villagers don’t provide enough
power to fuel more than a few under-gods so we can safely sacrifice them.
But there have to be more dwarves and harsnetts, First! Their worship must
strengthen us!”
Decirius
was ready to answer when Third of the Five interjected, “What about the
Ancient? Your under-gods have forgotten about him, but we don’t know
whose side he will take. The Ancient needs to be eliminated.”
Again
the voices grew cacophonic, interspersing hacked-off syllables, losing
themselves in the twirls of the shadows.
Calmly,
Decirius nodded and said, “Yes, Third, I know. I also know that you have
never bothered to eliminate him. Yet you are his offspring, aren’t you?
Why did you not act upon that when you had the opportunity? And why did
neither of the others?” No clear answer came, and Decirius went on,
“Because the Ancient is meaningless. He has lost most of what he once
had. What is left is of no concern to us. He might run to the other
abodes, but I have taken a measure to prevent him from that.” He smiled.
“That choice of mine is at least as reliable as Darawk and Alyssa are.
Self-serving as that under-god may be, he will always do what is best for
himself.”
“Are
you sure about that?” Third of the Five asked. His voice was slightly
crackling, the memory of the Ancient’s connection to him biting the god.
“Yes,
I am.” Decirius turned to where Third’s voice came from. He sent
another lightning in that direction, the energy limning the outline of one
shadow, then several others in quick succession. One of them was Third’s
actual form. “Continue as you have thus far, and don’t concern
yourself with the matters to which I have pledged myself. The Ancient will
not interfere, and our plan will unfold as I have promised you.”
He
sent more lightning around him, highlighting the other shadows in the
darkness around him.
“The
Five are set to reach the place we deserve. We shall rule – a world of
sapients who worship our abodes! That is what we are destined to become,
and that we will achieve. I promised you before, and again I pledge this.
The Five will succeed!”
He
raised his fist, made it glow from within, enough to pierce the shadows
and make it visible to the other chief gods. “The Five will rule!” he
shouted.
“We
shall rule!” the others chimed in.
Satisfied,
Decirius nodded – and left the discussion.
He
didn’t actually change place. The darkness was still around him, yet the
shadows of the other gods were gone, and he knew exactly where he was in
his home. He also knew that somebody else was him, somebody that he had
expected.
“Did
they agree?” the other god, his assistant in the great scheme, asked.
“With
some difficulties, yes,” Decirius said. “The old man?”
The
other god smiled. “No problems there, Deecee. He doesn’t even dream of
going to any other abode. I guess he thinks you’ll accept him into our
abode.”
Decirius
crooked his head. “Really? I wouldn’t have thought he’s serious
about this.”
“He’s
taken a name for himself,” the other god said. “Now he calls himself
Olmawi.”
“Olmawi?”
Decirius brightened the darkness, walked over to his desk and sat down
behind it. “That is a surprise. Maybe the old man – Olmawi – can
actually prove worthwhile.”
The
other god stepped towards the desk and rested his hands on the top of the
table. “So he might not be meaningless?”
Decirius’
head jerked up, his eyes took a quick study of the god before him. “You listened
in on our conversation?!”
The
other god shrugged. “You were pretty loud.”
“What
have you learned?” Decirius asked dangerously.
“Perhaps
enough, perhaps not,” the other god answered. “But didn’t you say I
am as reliable as Darawk and Alyssa? At least as far as a
‘self-serving’ god can be?”
Decirius
rose from his chair, facing the other deity. “Remember your place. I am
your chief god, and it is I who decides what you may know.”
The
other god smiled darkly. “Of course, Deecee. I wouldn’t have it any
other way.”
“Leave
now and take care of your business!”
“Most
certainly,” Shenaumac, the God of Sharpened Things, agreed. “There is
much to do.”
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