OF GODS AND MEN
Chapter 35: Taking Shape
Almost all had
been set to rights in Malthanon. Save
for the ruin where the docks once stood, the city had been perfectly restored
to what it was before Adulatio’s betrayal.
The people were returning to it in droves, now filled with so much hope
that it was palpable anywhere they would congregate. It did not matter if it was a family sitting
together in their home or a crowd of strangers in one of the city markets, the
smiles and good cheer were boundless and generously offered.
Yet no place in the entire city held
so much grace, gratitude and joy as the cathedral that formed the base of the
GodKing’s palace. Since the miraculous
restorations had begun, this holy site had been filled with people. Residents from all over Malthanon came to
praise the name of Malthus who, in His infinite glory, had restored to them
their homes.
Lines formed outside the cathedral
gates, and people waited their turn, sometimes days, to get in and praise their
lord. But even for these people, there
was immediate solace: the spire of Malthus.
The impossibly high tower rose beyond sight into the clouds, and it
stood as a monolithic reminder to all the people of the city that their God had
returned, and that he would take care of them.
Inside the spire, at the topmost
peak, stood the throne room of Malthus.
It too had been restored, yet unlike everything else in the city; which
had been reproduced exactly as it was before; the throne room had come back
changed. Gone were the riches of old,
the enchantments of illumination that once made this room brighter than the
sun. Instead, it was left bare, covered
from floor to ceiling only in the grey stone that made it up. There were no more large windows looking out
onto the world; indeed, there were no windows at all. It had no door that allowed entry or exit,
and the bleakness of it resembled more a dungeon cell than a throne room. Yet a throne room it was, for it held the
seat of the GodKing: a simple chair made of wood and stone that sat in the very
center of the room.
Upon that consecrated seat, the
light shone. Shapeless though it was, it
bore weight. It did not hover, or float
over the seat, but was perched upon it.
It did not move, yet it pulsed outward and inward: advancing and
receding like the ocean tide. It had no
eyes to see; yet it looked through the stone walls surrounding it and perceived
the city outside.
Within
this holy host, a reflection of the ruined docks appeared. Splinters covered the shore, and half-ships
jutted from the shallow waters. A tendril of light extended itself into the
reflection. There was a pulse of light,
a blinding flash, and then…
The
power of God flowed forth. The
reflection of the dock suddenly changed.
Gone were the splinters along the shoreline, replaced with whole docks
and ports back in their original place.
Half-ships were wiped away, replaced with their whole and functional
counterparts tied off and ready. Like a
final patch stitched into a quilt, the city of Malthanon had been sewn back
together. It was now whole once again.
“Hail
Malthus. GodKing of the realm,” an
ethereal female voice proclaimed.
“Hail
Malmira, GodQueen of Malmot,” a flat, monotone voice replied from everywhere at
once.
“The
shape of thee is divine,” Malmira said, offering a slight bow of her head. “Why has thou cast off they human form?”
“There
is no need of it any longer,” the light replied from everywhere. “I am Malthus now. Reborn in the light of divinity, and bestowed
upon the power of God.”
“As
thou hast always been,” Malmira said. “I
thought the human guise comforted you.”
“It
does not,” the light replied flatly. “I
am not the Malthus of thy memory, lady.
My human form is not one thou wouldst recognize.”
“I
know who you are, Tarsus Cole,” Malmira said disarmingly.
“You
knew who I was,” the voice clarified, “but I am not he anymore. I am Malthus, and I must act in that stead.”
“Indeed,
you are right,” Malmira confirmed. “I
confess I am surprised you learned that lesson so quickly. It is my job to teach all young gods that
very thing.”
“We
all have a role to play,” the voice said disconnectedly.
“Yes,”
Malmira agreed. “But within that role
there is room to honor who we once were.
To honor those we loved and lost.
It is true, you are Malthus now, with all the duties that come with
being the GodKing. But that does not
mean Tarsus Cole has been wiped away.”
“Of
course it does lady,” the light echoed.
“I can feel the power steering me toward my role. Already, I have restored this city to what it
was. I have renewed the peoples’ faith. I am as a God should be, and that is all that
is expected of me. And yet…” the light’s
voice, for a moment, rose in its timbre.
“And
yet?” Malmira pressed.
“Tis
all hollow,” the light went on. “As a
man, I wanted this. I wanted
greatness. Now I have it. All the power and all the knowledge of a
thousand worlds. But I see now that
greatness is a mask; meant to hide in whole, or in part, the face of God from
man. So why should I resume my human
form? Better to stay formless…shapeless…and
do what it is I am meant to do.”
“Is
that any way to honor the mortals who gave their lives for this quest: for you
to be as you are now?” Malmira asked genuinely.
The
light did not reply, only dimmed within itself.
“Perhaps
the ambitions of man are as you say…hollow masks,” Malmira continued, her
ethereal timbre giving way to passion.
“But what you felt for her… for your other friend…indefinable as those
feelings were, they bore weight. They
are bonds…ties that you cannot afford to lose.”
“You
forget,” the light corrected, “Those ties have been cut. Cecily is dead. And to Finnian, Tarsus Cole never even
lived.”
“I
forget nothing, young god,” Malmira informed.
“You may know all now, but you do not understand all just yet.”
“What
do you mean?” the light asked, hints of hope coming through.
“Life
and death belong to all of us,” Malmira said.
“Mortals, gods, worlds...yet life and death, like your feelings, are not
so easily defined. In your memory, your
friends are still alive. You can honor
that. You can remember them as they
were…as you all were, and as a god, you can see that their legacies on this
world are fulfilled.”
“When
we last met,” the light began quietly, “you were riding wildly, disguised as a
horse untamed. You were carrying away a
young woman you said was your friend.”
“Yes,”
Malmira recalled heavily.
“I
understand now,” the light shared. “She
was someone that you knew. Or at least,
the descendant of someone that you knew.
A face from an old life.”
“Very
good, GodKing,” Malmira said. “You see
that we are alike. I was not born a
goddess.”
“The
in-between kind,” the light agreed. “Children
of two worlds; not entirely mortal or divine.
So tell me, elder goddess, what place have we in either one?”
“We
fulfill our roles, as we are meant to,” Malmira said quickly. “Aside from that, answer me this, Tarsus
Cole. Tis a question I had to ask myself
when I awoke as a goddess. What do you
want?”
“I
do not know,” the light replied. “Only
now, with all the knowledge granted me, do I see how ill prepared I am to
answer that question.”
“Let’s
think about it another way,” Malmira plowed on, “your mortal desire proved
hollow. What did your friends want? Were their desires as hollow as yours?”
The
light pulsed again, this time changing its hue from a brilliant white to warm
amber. The shapeless illumination began
to change, conforming to the angles and contours of a human face. It settled into the familiar shape of a woman
warrior; her eyes focused and her mouth pursed, at the ready to speak. Strands of red light fell from the top of the
head, completing the divinity’s transformation.
The
ghostly glow of Cecily Thorne looked out, once again, onto the throne room of
the GodKing she so loyally served. Even
as a shade, her grim determination shone through: channeled here from wherever
she may have been. “I want to save
Malthanon, and give my life to the service of Malthus,” the light said in
Cecily’s voice.
“It
is done,” Malmira replied formally.
The
light shifted, reconfiguring itself into another face. The eyes opened wider than Cecily’s had been,
and a smile spread so wide it threatened to split the face in two. What had been a tightly coiled demeanor of
determination was replaced with an easy, friendly disposition.
The
phantom visage of Finnian Pell beamed before the GodQueen. “I have had enough of adventure. I want to go home to Briarden. I want live out the rest of my days in peace
and laughter.”
“It is done,” Malmira said, offering a smile in return.
“It is done,” Malmira said, offering a smile in return.
The
light shifted once more. The eyes, the
nose, the mouth…they fell into their new places easily. The amber glow grew a shade darker, and the
unsure, almond eyes of Tarsus Cole were opened once again onto the world.
“Strange,
is it not?” Malmira asked of the new shape.
“You all triumphed in the end, gaining what it is you wanted. You only need to choose to see that. You have used your great power and knowledge
to rebuild this city, thus glorifying Malthus.
And despite Cassius’s curse, or perhaps because of it, Finnian is back
where he belongs, living out the rest of his days in laughter. He will never suffer for having lost you. You see?
Even in loss, there are gains to be found.”
The
illumined face of Tarsus Cole held silent.
His eyes, wide with uncertainty, began to grow. Up and out and they went, until they grew so
large that they dwarfed everything else on his face. “Your are right. Yet…this is not enough. I want more.
I want them back Malmira.” Tarsus said in impassioned tones. “I know I shouldn’t. They are
at peace. But there can be no peace
for me…not as a god. And I do not want
to face this alone.”
“I
understand, all too well, your struggle,” Malmira confided, her normally
lilting fluidity transformed to halting emphasis. “But the power has its price. A lonely, isolating price.”
“I
know,” Tarsus’s downcast eyes replied.
“It bends their will to ours. Strips
them of everything that makes them who they are…and turns them into whatever it
is we wish them to be. That, after all,
is what it means to be a god. Power, dominance, control…yet no ties to the
people we are meant to rule. No tethers. No bonds.”
Malmira
let her eyes fall from the vast, contemplative countenance of the young
GodKing. “Tis the sad truth of it
all. For the talk of the price of the
power, no one can truly understand how costly it is until they wield it for
themselves. And by then, it is too late. Ever it has been, and ever it will be.”
VOOOSH
It
echoed throughout the GodKing’s chamber: the sound of a flame, bursting to
life. Malmira looked up.
The
pale blue eyes of Tarsus Cole, large as doorways now, were rimmed in red
fire. They continued to grow, merging
together as one great eye.
Malmira
took a step backward. The imposing eye
looked upon her in anger. Suddenly, the
shadow of a man appeared in its center, and with each moment that passed the
shadow grew larger. It was coming
towards her.
The
GodQueen reached for her power, ready to defend herself. It spread from the pit of her stomach into
every limb. Every inch of her body
pulsed with it, and in an instant she was capable of unleashing a force deadly
enough to sink all of Malthanon into the sea.
Yet with that power, came understanding.
Whatever this shadow was that was approaching her, Malmira perceived
that it was not malevolent…at least, not towards her.
It
was upon her now. It stepped out from
the red light, the steel of its boot sounding on the bare stone floor. A blinding flash exploded, forcing even the
GodQueen of Malmot to shut her eyes.
When
she reopened them, she found a young man standing before her. His armor, silver and white, gleamed against
his olive complexion. A blue cape
extended from his back, falling to just above his heels. He bore no helm and no weapon, the only
signifying mark upon him was the sunstroke of Malthus; it sat large and golden
in the center the man’s cuirass.
The almond eyes of Tarsus Cole looked
intently at Malmira. Yet there was more
to him now than there had been before, even as a being of pure light. He looked grim and determined, yet his smile
was so wide and borne so easily that it seemed any other expression would have
seemed wrong painting his face.
The
red fire behind Tarsus Cole, from whence he had come, dissipated into the
air. The GodKing had taken shape.
“My
lord…” Malmira said, slightly stunned by this speedy transformation.
“My
lady,” Tarsus replied, taking her hand and kissing it with a theatrical
swagger. “Thank you. You have given me so much to consider. And I know now how best to use my new gifts.”
“I
am glad to hear it, GodKing,” Malmira said.
“You
may not be, when you hear of it,” Tarsus said, the smile on his face only
growing. “But I hope that, in time, what
I do will benefit all of us; god and man alike.
And in so doing, honor the memory of my friends.”
“And
you will share this plan with me?” Malmira asked.
“I
must,” Tarsus affirmed. “I need you to
tell others. So that it may spread.”
“What are you planning Tarsus Cole?”
Malmira pressed.
“The end, my lady,” Tarsus answered
with a flourishing bow. “We are slaves
to our own power, given the illusion of control because we can enslave
others. No more. I am going to find the source of all
this. I will make it tell me why we are,
and how we came to be.”
“And then?”
“And then I will destroy it,” Tarsus
declared with grim purpose behind smiling eyes.
“I will set us all free.”
“You are mad,” Malmira said. “This is impossible. Even if you were strong enough to do as you
say, none of us knows where the power comes from. Not even the old gods.”
“Perhaps that is true,” Tarsus agreed. “Or perhaps it is not. But I will search. I will go where I must, fight what I must,
ask all I can…until I am satisfied.
Until I either know the truth…or have been destroyed by it.”
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