The Nemesis, The Wizard and The Waterfall. Book One. by Albert Benson
Chapter Five
Elijah awoke in the first bed that he’s slept in Worlyn’s underground hideout to something very hot, practically burning, frantically licking his cheek. It was Muppy, then excitedly rubbing the side of her head against his long downy black beard, and then licking him again. He reached up and gently stroked her head, and she whined with pleasure, and rubbed her body against his hand.
‘At last, you’re awake!’
Elijah looked around to see Worlyn smiling at him. ‘What time is it?’
‘Better to say what month is it?’
Elijah was confused, ‘What?’
‘You’ve been asleep for nearly seven months, I’ve been force-feeding you the herb potion by spoon. Thankfully, the effects of Bagarnack’s spells are wearing off. Now, I want you to drink all of this.’ He gestured towards a large shinny steel goblet that was full to the brim with a sickly green liquid. ‘Come on Twinkle, my beauty,’ he gently took her off his shoulder and placed her on his chair, then reached over and scooped Muppy in his hands, ‘go and play with Twinkle.’ Muppy ran to the little dragon, resting her two front paws on the edge of the seat and began growling and harrying her. Twinkle, giving a little snort of flame that singed Muppy’s ear, flapped her leathery wings and flew to the shelf.
Worlyn laughed, ‘They get on really well, love one another.’ Then he grasped Elijah’s shoulders and helped him sit. ‘Drink.’
But the room was spinning, black dots were floating before his eyes, he was disorientated, then before he realised he was staring at the ceiling, the back of his head hurting. He heard a strange voice, and then Worlyn’s.
‘Yes, yes, thank you, I know. No, I didn’t forget what you told me. Stop going on, you’re worse than my twenty third wife, or was it the twenty second? Actually, I think the both of them were champion nags. Yes, yes, yes, I’m doing it.’
Elijah felt his head lifted up and the goblet pressed to his lips and a cool bitty liquid was in his mouth. It was not unpleasant, tasting of sager, wilderflower, bettany, dickory and pelladonna. He knew each of the herbs and flowers, but did not know what their properties were when mixed, nor what this combination would do. He had tasted them all separately and had felt their effects. Sager was a restorative, a pick-me-up, a tonic, that was used after an illness. Wilderflower was supposedly good for the circulation. Bettany was good for curing nasty blood infections. Dickory was also good for the circulation, but only to one area of the body. Pelladonna was a skin restorative, used by aged women, and men, to make themselves look younger. It tightened the skin, banishing all fat, practically shrunk it until, if used in excess, the person looked like a skull with skin. He’d gotten it for Creap’s mother everyday, and she looked like the screaming skull. Why was he being given that? And he could taste minger, but that was difficult to collect, it only grew during the night, died and withered with the first rays of the sun. It was supposed to contain magical properties that gave great strength and bravery. Creap was always telling him to get it, but had only managed it a couple of times.
He managed to drain the goblet.
‘Well done Elijah, well done,’ Worlyn smiled, his tattoos moving with his grin. ‘I can see you’re again exhausted, we’ll leave you, but, hopefully, you shouldn’t sleep as long.’ Worlyn touched Elijah’s shoulder and gave it a gently squeeze, stood and left, but Elijah still felt a presence and looked to where Bearbert had been sitting, but there sat, not the giant bat he’d been expecting but a rather stocky, ginger-haired man, smoking a pipe, wearing the same white flannelette pyjamas with the big red lips.
‘Who’re you?’ Elijah croaked.
‘You know who I am,’ the man’s voice was deep and strong.
‘I don’t.’
‘I’m Bearbert.’
Elijah was shocked, ‘But Bearbert was a giant bat?’
‘That’s the form I usually take when I appear to humans, unless I choose otherwise.’
‘I’m human.’
‘Yes, but you’re different.’
Elijah was confused, ‘I don’t understand, how am I different?’
‘Well,’ Bearbert smiled as he took a deep suck of his pipe and blew the grey smoke into the air, ‘you’re still alive.’
‘Why’s that?’
Bearbert chuckled, crossed his other leg and took a great suck of his pipe, blowing the smoke into the air, and as though he couldn’t help himself, burst into laughter. ‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.’
‘But you’re a god, you know everything.’
‘I wish I did, everything would be so much simpler.’ He stared at Elijah for a moment, still smoking his obnoxious pipe and flicking his foot up and down as though kicking an imaginary football. ‘There are so many things Elijah, the universe is so vast. I’ve travelled. I didn’t have any ambitions, I just wanted to travel, I pushed the limits, I travelled. I found galaxies where there was no magic, where the inhabitants had developed their science so that it rivalled magic, where it could beat magic, where I could be killed. They were not gods in the sense we know it, but they were gods because of their intelligence, their science, their knowledge. They would have imprisoned, perhaps even killed me had I not fled, such was their power.’
Elijah was shocked, ‘Can gods be killed?’
‘I have not heard of a god being killed, but whilst I was there I had the impression their science could have killed me. They despised magic, deplored the idea that there were gods who had supreme magic, hated the idea that our society is structured in such a way that the gods are at the top when they haven’t earned the right.’
‘What were these beings?’
‘Living machines, beings made from metal that lived, breathed and thought, beings beyond cruelty, that would destroy a planet, even a solar system, if it suited their plans.’
‘How do they fit into the Order?’
Bearbert sat up with a start, quickly uncrossing his leg and removing his pipe. ‘Who told you about the Order?’
Elijah knew he’d said something wrong, very wrong, and knew that he’s landed Worlyn in a great pile of eunicon dung. ‘I, I, heard it somewhere.’
‘Worlyn told you.’ It was not a question but a statement.
Elijah was scared witless, what had he done? But Worlyn didn’t say never to mention the Order.
Bearbert sat back and waved his pipe hand irately, ‘It doesn’t matter: I suppose it will be common knowledge soon.’ He pointed the end of his pipe at Elijah. ‘You’ll keep drinking the potion Worlyn prepares for you, you’ll bathe in the blue lake every day, and you’ll keep your questions to yourself. Oh, and shave that excuse for a beard off, it looks terrible. ’
And before Elijah could apologise Bearbert disappeared.
When he was fully mobile the first thing he did was shave his beard off. For the next week he kept his head down, drinking the herb potion three times a day. Curiously, the potion filled him so that he never felt hungry. He bathed in the waterfall, which made him feel refreshed and stronger with every dip, but he kept his questions to himself, Bearbert’s voice and admonishment ringing in his memory. He’d also noticed that Worlyn had removed all the mirrors, and the blue lake, even when there were no ripples, did not show his reflection. He knew it was magic, because he felt fantastic after. Every time he saw the eunicons he wanted to approach them, but Worlyn shooed him away, saying he wasn’t ready, saying the eunicons would skewer him if he approached them. Bearbert had not visited since that night, and to his utter despair and sadness, Esme had not visited either. He was beginning to feel abandoned; perhaps they didn’t care how he was. He remembered hearing two of Zanatos’ cooks talking about the legend of the beautiful youth Savermaine, how one of the gods had fallen hopelessly in love with Savermaine’s beautiful mother Brisbanie, a woman of such outstanding beauty that even a god had lost his head with love and infatuation. The god transformed himself into her husband, took on his human characteristics and made love to her, made her pregnant and she gave birth to Savermaine. He
grew into the most handsome, tall and impressive demi-god, with the power to bewitch anyone who looked upon his face, so that they instantly fell in love with him and would do anything for him. The gods were much taken with Savermaine’s handsome beauty and many wanted to be his patron, but the god who fathered him told the other gods what he’d done, and that he alone should be the youth’s sole patron. The gods agreed, they were acquiescent to his wishes, and he became Savermaine’s patron. But Savermaine let his beautiful countenance, powers to bewitch and special attention go to his head. He turned into a spoilt, ungrateful, criticising, faultfinding verbal monster that began insulting everyone who came within his sight. When he wasn’t chastised he began criticising the gods, and the gods began to dislike him, and some warned him, but he ignored their warning. His patron/father warned him, and he ignored that warning, and questioned, and criticised, and shouted, and ranted until his father, exasperated, turned him into a marble statue and cast him into the bottom of the deepest ocean.
Elijah had heard many stories like that, where the gods took a liking to a human, favoured them, but became bored, and turned them into statues, pigmoors, horse dropping, ferrets, anything they liked. Was that his fate?
No, he’d keep his mouth shut and do as they said. But of course, if the gods wanted to turn him into a cockroach, what could he do about it? Nothing.
‘Now Elijah.’
Elijah turned quickly, he hadn’t heard anyone enter, so deep was he into his thoughts. Worlyn was standing before him, wearing a set of bright purple robes with orange piping, holding in his arms two pieces of wood, a walking stick, a long white bone, what looked like a stiffened bat’s wing, a petrified shrunken hand, a feather duster, an umbrella, a polished dark wood staff, black coloured leather gloves, a wand, and a ripped sleeve from a leather coat.
‘Esme has said it’s time for your magical education,’ he dropped all the items onto the bed.
Elijah was eager, ‘You’ve seen Esme?’
‘Course not; she came to me as a eunicon. She’s just too beautiful, she knows her beauty can send most men, and plenty of women, insane. Now, before you choose your magical conductus.’
‘My what?’
‘The object which you channel and concentrate your magic through. For example this wand,’ he picked up a step long, thin piece of light coloured wood, ‘comes from the Yew tree, where the great wizard Ted Barley urinated after his daily sessions of drinking fairy made wine. Here try it.’ He passed it to Elijah, who took it. ‘Well do something with it.’
Elijah looked blank, wondering what was wanted of him.
‘Give it a flick and concentrate on making that chair disappear.’
Elijah flicked and concentrated. Nothing happened.
‘No,’ Worlyn looked disappointed, ‘nevermind,’ and took the wand, ‘this is what should happen,’ and flicked the wand at the chair, it loudly cracked into big fat pig that squealed piercingly and ran off. Worlyn chuckled, ‘Breakfast for the next week. Maybe, the staff.’ He picked up a long thick staff made of a dark knobbly wood and held it out for Elijah to take, who took it in both hands. ‘That was the staff of Sible. She lived for two thousand years, defeated the dark wizard Ukrend in a titanic battle that lasted for five years. They were evenly matched until Sible transmogrified herself into flesh-eating bacteria that ate Ukrend’s wand arm off, only then was she able to defeat him. This is a little different from a wand, you have to hold it in both hands, pointing the end, and think what you want to do,’ Worlyn took the staff back off Elijah and held the staff exactly so as an example. ‘Channel all your mental energy into the staff; think it’s an extension of your mind and magical powers. Point it at the bed, no, no, something smaller, that jug, and make it disappear.’ He handed it back.
Elijah held the staff exactly as Worlyn had, pointed at the jug and concentrated on making it disappear. Nothing happened, he tried again, his face screwing in concentration, still nothing. He looked at Worlyn who looked both puzzled and disappointed.
‘Nevermind, nevermind,’ Worlyn chirped in a falsely exaggerated voice. ‘Maybe the walking stick.’ He picked up the beautifully polished dark wood stick, with lighter wood bands near the rounded handle. ‘Wonderful craftsmanship. This was used by Unbready the Unsteady, great wizard, but was cursed at a Centuria tournament by two wizards that got mixed up with their venues, both came into the arena and cursed Unbready at once, that was their story, but I have my doubts. Anyway, the two curses were incompatible and left Unbready severely unbalanced, not in his mind obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ Elijah answered and Worlyn gave him a reproachful stare.
‘To continue. Unbready’s patron god was Phoebe, lovely goddess, do anything for anyone, well, within limits obviously. She’s the goddess of loneliness. According to Bearbert she’s the only one that wanted it. Unbready asked Phoebe if she’d bless his walking stick, which she did, therefore endowing it with great inherent magical powers, and that’s why Unbready kept winning the Centuria for nearly three centuries, until the other gods caught on and began blessing all kinds of things. It all went a bit silly, wizards were using all kinds of things as conducti, gloves, boots, cucumbers that never decayed, carrots, sticks of celery, turnips, socks, back scratchers, fluffy dusters, you get the drift. So the gods all agreed to remove their blessings, but Phoebe only pretended to, so this walking stick still has great magical powers. Now, pay attention. You only need one hand with the walking stick, whichever hand you favour, point it and concentrate on making the jug, no, not the jug, maybe something even smaller, that goblet on the table, make that disappear.’ He passed the stick to Elijah.
Elijah took the walking stick and put it into his right hand.
‘Can you feel it vibrating?’ asked Worlyn eagerly.
In truth, it just felt like wood to Elijah. Should he say no, or lie. ‘It feels warm.’
Worlyn seemed to deflate before his eyes. ‘Try to make the goblet disappear.’
Elijah pointed the stick and concentrated. Disappear, disappear, disappear, he thought over and over again, please, please, please, disappear.
Nothing whatsoever, the stick didn’t vibrate, shake, move, become warm, or do absolutely anything.
‘Not to worry, not to worry,’ cried Worlyn artificially, really looking as though he was about to burst into tears, ‘we’ve got loads to try yet. The thighbone, the thighbone,’ he shouted, ‘we haven’t tried the thighbone. This,’ he said picking up the thighbone, and waving it about, Elijah thought he saw it giving off golden sparks, ‘is the thighbone of Lindante,’ continued Worlyn, Lindante was an exceptional witch, she could do things that even the gods admired. It was rumoured that she was the result of a coupling between the goddess Dementer, who was the goddess of secrets, and the wizard Noveletty, who was also a powerful wizard, rumoured to be a demi-god. But, that’s only rumour, none of the gods would confirm or deny that. The problem being was that Lindante upset Bagarnack.’
‘How?’
‘She ranted at Bagarnack about rotrobbers, calling them the most foulsome creatures ever to walk the earth, along with other things.’
‘Had the rotrobbers upset her?’
‘Only the gods know, and they wouldn’t tell me so I never pressed it, never badger the gods for an answer. As you know, or do you?’ Worlyn looked at Elijah in a puzzled manner, as though he wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about. ‘Nevermind,’ Worlyn continued, ‘rotrobbers are Bagarnack’s creation, so he wasn’t very happy about her criticising them. In retaliation he glued her lips together so she couldn’t speak, but neither could she eat or drink, and Bagarnack conveniently forgot about that. Of course she died. But that’s beside the point. This thigh-bone is a great magical conducti, used it loads of times. It’s one fault is that it seems to favour some spells, and I’m not being misogynistic here,’ he stopped and looked around twice.
Elijah didn’t have a clue what he was talking about as he also looked around.
‘It favo
urs witch’s spells,’ Worlyn again looked around, as if expecting an angry witch to appear and blast him into infinity, ‘more than others.’
‘What sort of spells?’
‘You know householdy type spells,’ again he looked around, his eyes roaming like a sewer rat’s, ‘cleaning, cooking spells, that type of thing, not much good if you want to vanish a hundred rotrobbers.’
‘Where did you get her thigh bone from?’ Elijah had a mental picture of a dirt encrusted, sweating Worlyn digging up bones from her grave.
‘Bearbert gave it to me about three hundred years ago, so you can be sure it genuine. Right, okay, yes, erm, what was I? Oh yes, you hold the bone exactly like the wand and walking stick, point it at the goblet and will it to disappear.’ He passed the bone to Elijah who took it. Worlyn gave a big reassuring smile. ‘It should start to feel very nice and warm and comfortable in your hand. Hold it up, that’s it. Any second now you’ll feel its power flood through your body, it should make you feel strong. Do you feel it, do you feel it?’
In truth Elijah felt nothing except the sweat of his palm making the bone slippery, he was beginning to think the gods had made an almighty mistake.
‘Point it at the goblet, concentrate, and make it disappear.’
Elijah concentrated, and concentrated, and concentrated, and willed the goblet to disappear. Nothing happened, then a thought came to him, perhaps if he said it out aloud, shouted, it would happen. ‘DISAPPEAR,’ Worlyn stepped back, surprised, but nothing happened, ‘VANISH,’ he shouted, and Worlyn was looking at him as though he was an incantation short of a spell, and still nothing.
‘What’re you shouting for?’
‘I thought it might work if I said the words.’
Worlyn looked exasperated, he looked around as if looking for a god to confide in, then raised his hands in the air and let them slap against his thighs. ‘Have I taught you nothing?’ his voice was taut and tense.
Elijah was about to agree with him then realised an answer wasn’t required.
‘The magic comes from inside you,’ Worlyn pressed five fingers into Elijah’s chest, and spoke with an urgency Elijah hadn’t heard before ‘from there,’ and pressed harder, practically prodding him. ‘The magic’s inside you, it’s a power that you can call upon whenever you want.’ Worlyn gave a great sigh and looked totally lost and confused. He glanced around and found an armchair, that Elijah was sure wasn’t there a moment ago, went to it and flopped down. He buried his face in his hands, then massaged his face, roughly rubbing his hands over his tattooed head, kneading his knuckles into his eyes, pulling at his beard, wringing his hands, then he took a great breath and sighed. He looked at Elijah with sadness in his eyes. ‘I forgot, Bearbert wants me to tell you a morality story.’
‘What’s a morality story?’
‘Shut up and listen. Many, many thousands of years ago thousands of wizards were exploring the three continents. They were on Chestor, grinding their way through the salt desert when they came across a large, weatherworn sandstone block, as big as a house, on it was carved “I am the Wizard King Ossiemandayous, to whom even the gods bend their knee. Look upon my great works and tremble.”
‘The wizards looked around, there was nothing but sand. They wondered where the great works were, and what had happened to them? Because they could find no evidence, except for the large, carved sandstone block. They came back and recorded their find, but no one had ever heard of this Ossiemandayous, and there weren’t any records of him in the Great Library. After a number of years the records were stored and forgotten in the library. Twenty thousand years passed, and an apprentice came to me, asking who Ossiemandayous was. Obviously, I’d never heard of him, but then again, there were thousands of wizards I’d never heard of. I told him as much, but when he recounted the story to me my curiosity was aroused. I searched the Great Library and found nothing but that reference. I asked Bearbert, and this is what he told me.
‘Ossiemandayous was perhaps the most gifted wizard that ever lived, his power was awesome. But he grew too much to admire his own skill and set himself up as a god. And when the gods didn’t interfere he grew in his own vanity, he began to build temples to himself. And still the gods didn’t interfere as he became absolute ruler of the three continents. His word was law, none would oppose him. The gods became angry that Zeus would not sanction him. But Zeus made them be patient and not chastise Ossiemandayous.
‘Ossiemandayous decided, as great as he was that he’d build the greatest temple ever seen as befitting his prodigious skill, a testimony to the most powerful wizard that ever lived, himself.
‘He enslaved the populace, had a million slaves plus working on his magnificent temple day and night. After nearly a thousand years the temple was finished. It was higher than a thousand man heights, longer than a million steps, wider than half a million steps. It was magnificent, stupendous, glorious, even the gods admired it, Ossiemandayous had used the finest sculptors to chisel statues in the finest marble of black, green and white, mostly of himself, in different outfits, but sometimes of his favourite dog, horse or butterfly, he liked butterflies. The pillars rose to the skies, the floors glittered, gleamed, shone and stretched until they disappeared into the distance. But what he didn’t realise was that the people hated him, the slaves hated him, the merchants hated him, everyone hated him.
‘The temple was perfect, except for three tiny flaws. One of the central marble pillars had a small crack in it that a wasp decided would make a good home. One of the foundation stones also had a small crack that a colony of ants decided would make a good home. And the massive timber support of boak that supported the great central dome had woodworm.
‘For thousand of years these three colonies grew, enlarged, spread out, created other colonies, but all the time they were gnawing, chewing, eating away at the very fabric of Ossiemandayous’ magnificent temple, until after a thousand years the temple was naught but a hollow shell.
‘The two thousand year old Ossiemandayous had taken to banishing everyone from his temple and just began to walk its endless rooms and corridors devoted to his magnificence.
‘Then one day, as he was passing one of the central pillars, he tripped over his sumptuous robes and reached to the central pillar to support himself. To his surprise his hand went right through the hard marble and thousands of wasps came out attacking him. Of course wasps wouldn’t bother him, he was the greatest wizard alive and created a protective shield around himself.
‘Unfortunately, no magic shield is strong enough to protect from millions of tons of stone, marble and wood falling on one’s head.
‘His temple crashed around him, like a pack of cards, killing him, leaving nothing but dust, and, of course, the big sandstone block.’
‘And the moral of this is?’
Worlyn stared at Elijah, somewhat dumbfounded as though the moral was obvious. ‘Work it out for yourself. Now, I want you to try the other things. The gloves, try the gloves,’ his voice sounded weary, tired, as though it was a hopeless cause, but he was trying to be enthusiastic.
Elijah picked up the black leather gloves, separated them, then put them back together, and flicked them at the goblet, again nothing happened.
‘DOZY DRAGOYLES!’ Worlyn shouted, and then seemed to control himself. ‘You’re supposed to put them on.’
‘Oh,’ Elijah gave an apologetic shrug, and put each glove on.
‘Now try various finger movements like this,’ Worlyn demonstrated, his fingers making complicated motions as though they were made of rubber rather than skin and bone because they seemed to bend at unnatural angles, bend over backwards and touch the back of his hand, movements that made Elijah gasp and stare in disbelief.
‘I, I, I can’t do that,’ Elijah spluttered.
Worlyn looked surprised, then continued in a stern voice, ‘What? Even a ten year old trainee warlock can make these hand movements, they are basic to magic, if you can’t do them, you can’t do magic.’
> What was the point, Elijah thought, he knew he couldn’t do magic. With a sigh he clasped his fingers together then interlocked them and tried to bend them back, they would only go so far, then it became painful. The gods were mistaken, no, not mistaken, totally and utterly wrong, he had about as much magic as a toadstool. He wrenched the gloves off, threw them on the table, and stormed out.
‘Where’re you going, come back here now? Typical moody teenagers, it’s all those raging hormones.’ And stopped, and thought, what’re hormones?
Elijah ignored him, he was becoming sick and angry at all this expectation of him being able to do magic. He ran down one dark, torch lit corridor into another, even darker corridor, and continued running until he came to a T-junction and chose the right and continued running. He could only just make out the sides of the wall as it became darker and darker. How long he was running for he could only guess, he passed doors and alcoves that seemed to hide things he would rather not see. Then the corridor ended at a large, roughly hewn dark wooden door, and he hesitated, he’d had two bad experiences of entering doors in these dark caverns. He had two alternatives, go back, which he certainly didn’t feel like doing, because those alcoves scared him, he caught glimpses of dark things, shadows, things that threatened his mind rather that his body. He decided to risk it, grasped the handle and opened the door.
It was like walking into another world away from the bare gloomy rough-hewn smoke stained walls and dismalness of Worlyn’s underground caverns and tunnels. Here it was bright, with mostly white and green marble that was reassuring, warm and comforting. It was a great hall, larger than any hall he had ever imagined, with Ionic columns that supported massive arches that seemed to stretch thousands of steps into the air, supporting domed ceilings with the most fantastic frescoes of muscled handsome heroes, lithe beautiful heroines, fantastic beasts, and gods cavorting with humans. He felt like an insect in a giant’s living room. Every wall was painted, and the hall seemed to go on forever, until it disappeared to a point. The artwork was so fantastic that the figures, the landscapes, the creatures seemed to be moving, playing and depicting stories that, as far as he could make out, showed epic stories of heroism and bravery, showed battles, conflicts, acts of unselfish courage and gallantry. He was mesmerized to the point he couldn’t move, but kept staring at the paintings.
How long he watched he had no idea, as one painting’s story ended another would begin immediately. It was another tale of fortitude and fearlessness, Of another hero that had fought against the odds, had triumphed when all seemed hopeless, when dark forces, dark gods, wizards, monsters, evil giants, hordes of dragons, acting in unison, scorching cities, towns and villages with their fiery breath, threatened to engulf them, threatened to destroy the known universe. But, Elijah realised, it seemed to happen over and over, again and again. The Dark Forces gathered, building in strength, taking over, ruling, changing the order of things, imposing their rule, implementing their upside-down rule, and the hero, and this was the surprise, or the heroine, would save the day.
After a while his legs gave way and he slumped on the hard marble floor, but still he couldn’t stop staring at the paintings, following the stories of the bravest of the brave.
And, then, without warning, he was lifted fifty steps into the air so fast it made his head spin, and was being carried along the great hall, past all of the frescoes, and the columns whizzed by, and he realised he was being held gently, cupped in a giant hand, the fingerprints were like ploughed ridges. He looked up but could only see the underside of a black bearded chin, then he heard voices: loud voices that echoed throughout the giant hall, and turned his head so quickly he almost cricked his neck.
Before him was an immense circular room with a vast domed painted ceiling, in the centre was a colossal white marble circular table around which were seated a large number of giants.
‘Look what I’ve found,’ boomed out a voice from above his head that Elijah thought sounded familiar.
The giant hand placed him gently on the huge table and withdrew. Elijah looked up and fell over backwards: Bagarnack, the enormous face of Bagarnack was staring at him.
‘Hello Snorker, how did you escape?’ But Bagarnack’s voice was not angry, nor was his countenance; actually, he appeared to smile at Elijah.
‘Now Bagarnack,’ and Elijah recognised the stern voice of Bearbert, ‘you know the rules.’
‘I certainly do,’ Bagarnack’s booming voice was hard and uncompromising, ‘but rules can be changed.’
‘Bagarnack,’ it was a feminine voice that Elijah turned to, and the giant face that he looked at was dark with anger, her eyes black with outrage, ‘our rules cannot be changed, and don’t you dare attempt to change them: you know as well as any of us the consequences.’
‘Consequences,’ Bagarnack laughed, and the whole great hall seemed to vibrate with his laughter, ‘what consequences? Rumour, myth and legend. Are we not gods?’
And Elijah heard many booming voices agree and urge Bagarnack to continue.
‘Are we to be constrained by a rumour of something that doesn’t exist? Do we not have the power? Can we not make worlds collide, not make suns explode? We, who have existed since time began, we who can create life, take life, destroy.’
‘Yes Bagarnack, you are excellent at destroying, at spreading disharmony and discord.’
Elijah instantly knew that voice and turned. There was the beautiful face of Esme, smiling at him, but also scowling at Bagarnack.
‘You are mistaken Esme, I only have the welfare of the gods as my main concern.’
‘Your main concern is your own welfare, your insatiable love of power, your desire to rule the universe so that you have already broken the rules, with no thought of the consequences to us.’
‘There are no consequences to us.’
‘There is when one god fights another.’
‘Tell me Esme, which gods have been fighting one another?’
‘Oh Bagarnack,’ Esme practically spat his name out, ‘do not add perjury to your long list of crimes against the gods.’
Bagarnack straightened and glared at her, ‘What crimes would they be then Esme, and where is your proof?’
‘Both of you are flouting the rules.’ Elijah looked at the blonde haired handsome god that had spoken. ‘We do not bring our differences into the Great Hall. This is where we honour one another’s contribution. We do not resort to,’ and he lowered his voice, ‘violence.’ He paused to allow his words to take effect, and then continued. ‘Now, we must ask ourselves, how has a human found his way into the Great Hall of the Gods, and survived?’
Every eye turned to Elijah, and he quailed under their collective stares. All he could see were enormous, gigantic black pupils surrounded by irises that contained the universe, with stars, planets, moons and gas clouds staring questioningly at him, he felt so small, so insignificant. He collapsed onto the tabletop and curled into a ball, pulling his knees tightly into his chest and closing his eyes, expecting to be blasted into ashes any moment.
‘Elijah, there is no need to be frightened,’ it was Esme’s soothing voice, ‘No harm will befall you here, you are safe. The gods only want answers. Please stand.’
Quickly Elijah stood, when a god requested, you did it as fast as you could. He tried not to look at any of the god’s faces, thinking they would be displeased at his brashness, but he wanted to look at Esme, to gaze upon her beautiful face, lose himself in her magnificent eyes; but he continued to stare at the enormous table top he was standing upon.
‘Look at me,’ the blonde haired god commanded.
Elijah turned and looked into the handsome features, but he noticed the eyes and mouth were not so handsome; they were giving exactly opposite messages, ones of dislike, impatience, disbelief and anger. And suddenly he knew why, he had entered into the Gods’ great hall, when he shouldn’t have done, he should have been killed in that corridor, and yet he hadn’t been.
The blonde haired god c
ontinued, ‘I am Hermes, you’ve heard of me?’
Elijah could do nothing but nod anxiously. Hermes, the god of the harvest of the grape, wheat, malt, hops and sugar, the god that had taught humans how to make wine, beer and spirits, the god that would destroy if he visited one of his temples and found it empty, or found that the gifts were not to his satisfaction. He was a terrible angry god that would take grotesque retribution on the people who had displeased him. Many times he’d heard the wine and beer makers in Dragoylia planning their gifts and sacrifices to Hermes, making sure their gifts were plentiful.
‘I have been appointed Arbitrator of the Gods for the past millennium. I’ll be the one questioning you. Do you understand?’
Again Elijah nodded, surreptitiously glancing upward.
‘How did you gain entry into the Great Hall?’
Elijah took a deep breath, ‘I was in Worlyn’s underground chambers.’
‘Ahhh,’ Bagarnack murmured.
‘Who is Worlyn?’ asked a goddess, whom Elijah recognised from her statues as Mnemosyne.
‘A wizard,’ answered Esme.
‘A human?’
‘Yes.’
‘Continue human.’
‘We had an argument and I ran out, ran until I found myself in a long corridor with lots of deep dark alcoves.’
‘The Corridor of Shadows, you’re just an ordinary, how did you survive?’ asked Hermes
Then Elijah knew, oh it was so simple, and he was so stupid, he thought he’d smelled it in the drink Worlyn had given him, gollyean, an hallucinogenic that put the victim into a deep and prolonged sleep, that caused fantastic dreams that seemed real, and could last for months, even years. Suddenly, he was no longer afraid, this was all an hallucination, a gollyean dream, it wasn’t real, this Great Hall wasn’t real, the gods weren’t real, Hermes wasn’t real, and he looked up and his eyes met Esme’s gentle love, and wished it was real just for that look from Esme. This was all an hallucination, a fantastic dream, and then it struck him; was he imagining Esme’s favouring him, even liking him? But, why not? It was his dream, his fantasy; he could have, could do, and could be, whatever he wanted, yes, whatever he wanted. First thing, he wanted to be a big as Esme.
Hermes’s booming voice spoke, ‘I asked you a question.’
He was still small; maybe that was part of the fantasy.
‘My patience is wearing thin, answer my question or suffer my wrath.’
‘Wrath, wrath? Who do you think you are?’ Elijah felt their collective intake of breath. ‘Oh, I forgot, you’re the gods, you please yourselves what you do, without any thought of your actions.’ He was on a roll, and he hated the gods, except Esme, he hated everything they stood for, everything they represented, after all, this was but a dream, an hallucination, he could say what he liked, it was his dream. ‘You think you’re all above reproach, because you are gods. You think every living creature is beneath you because you’re gods. You think all are yours to command, yours to control, yours to destroy, yours to play stupid games with. You create life, create monsters that tackle and fight other monsters that other gods have created, because you are all cowards, because the gods will not face one another in combat, they use others to do their dirty work, and all the time the innocents suffer. Not one of you care if the child is orphaned, the parents murdered by rotrobbers, or the aftermath of your petty squabbles.’
‘That is enough.’
‘No it’s not! You’re not worthy to be called gods; you’re corrupted by power, by greed, by selfishness. I challenge you, I challenge you to live as a human, this is the challenge, I, Elijah, a puny human, demand of the gods.’
‘Demand?’ shouted Hermes.
‘Now, there’s a thought,’ said Bearbert in a soft voice, a large smile playing around his mouth, ‘that’s something we haven’t tried before.’
All the gods seemed to burst into speech, Elijah heard the words, ridiculous, preposterous, we’re the gods, this insect, should be blasted into infinity, why has he survived?
Elijah shouted, and his voice seemed to be magnified above the chatter of the gods. ‘I challenge you to become human, to become wizards, reinstate and take part in the Centuria Tournament.’ He was stunned, where were these words coming from? Then, again he realised, it was part of the hallucination. ‘Or are you too frightened, frightened that an ordinary wizard may defeat you without your godly powers?’
‘The gods are frightened of nothing,’ Bearbert shouted, ‘Even if we renounced our godhood, we are still magical enough to defeat any wizard.’
‘Prove it.’
The blonde-haired god, Hermes, spoke, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper that contained a deadly menace, and all the gods stopped speaking. ‘The gods don’t need to prove themselves to a human.’
‘No,’ Elijah laughed derisively, ‘that’s a brilliant excuse isn’t it? The indolent gods are above caring what their disposable, expendable subjects think about them.’
‘You insult us Snorker?’ Bagarnack said clearly in his powerful voice.
‘My name is Elijah, is that so difficult for a god to remember?’
All the gods seemed to take a deep breath, none insulted Bagarnack, none insulted the gods, and lived.
Hermes spoke, ‘You’ve insulted the gods,’ his voice reverberated around the Great Hall, ‘Your punishment will be eternal damnation, rotrobbers will rip your limbs off every day, and every night your limbs will regrow, with great pain, to be ripped off again. Is that agreed?’ He looked around.
‘No,’ answered Bearbert loudly.
‘No,’ answered Esme softly, but everyone heard her.
‘No,’ answered Bagarnack, ‘I want to prove to this human that even stripped of our godly powers we still have the courage that he accuses us of lacking.’
Hermes shouted, ‘This is stupidity beyond belief! The gods don’t accede to foolish requests from humans. Throughout the ages they have challenged us, demanded we show ourselves, and when we do, they cower and ask for forgiveness. The blink of a god’s eye is a thousand years to a human. They expect too much.’
‘No Hermes,’ it was Esme who spoke, ‘we gods have interfered too much in the affairs of humans. Elijah is right! We’re cowards, fiercely protective of our godhood, never challenging another god directly, but creating creatures and monsters we hoped would overcome the creatures and monsters other gods had created. Playing our false games that create untold misery throughout the three continents. We come into this Great Hall, and are polite, abide by the rules, never questioning, never disagreeing, when really we should be sorting our differences here, in the Great Hall.’
‘No,’ said Hermes, ‘the Great Hall, as all know, is the neutral place, where we leave all problems outside the door, where we gather in a social setting, where we respect one another, where we listen.’
‘That is absolute rubbish,’ shouted Elijah.
‘HOLD YOUR TONGUE HUMAN,’ shouted Hermes.
‘No,’ Elijah whispered, and the silence was palpable, all the gods were staring at him. There was no sound in the Great Hall at all. He could feel the gods’ eyes boring into him, but that meant nothing, it was all a dream, his dream, he could do whatever, say whatever he liked. ‘I challenge you all to either participate in the Centuria Tournament, or make me a god and I will challenge you all directly.’
Bearbert gave a great booming laugh. ‘He is plucky this one.’
‘He is insane to challenge the gods,’ said a silver haired, smooth-cheeked god, whose name was Ares. ‘Let me kill him?’
Some of the gods agreed.
‘No,’ shouted Bearbert, but then lowered his voice as if what he was about to say was sacrilege, ‘and yet, we all know what will happen if the humans cease to believe in us.’
‘That is a falsehood,’ Hermes answered dismissively, ‘nothing will happen to us.’
‘Is it?’ Esme’s words were tinged with spite. ‘There should be hundreds of gods here, and yet, we’re only seven, where are
the other gods, what has happened to them?’
‘They’ve gone exploring,’ a long, dark haired, exceptionally beautiful goddess named Artemis said, ‘as Bearbert did. We didn’t see him for aeons, and he turned up. The other gods will.’
‘I doubt it,’ Esme said, ‘we know, but have forgotten, we’ve lived too long, we’ve been in conflict too long, we can’t remember half the creatures we’ve created, nor half the creatures that have been exterminated by other creatures other gods have created. Where are Okeanos, Coeus, Tethys, Zeus, Dionysus, Iapetus, and Rhea? What’s happened to their temples, to their disciples, their followers? I’ll tell you. Their temples are dust, their disciples are dust, and their followers are dust. They are no more, they have ceased to exist.’
‘That’s rubbish,’ Hermes shouted, panic in his voice, ‘they are gods, they cannot cease to exist.’
Esme shouted, her voice cutting, ‘You idiot, we only exist as long as we have followers. If we’re forgotten we cease to exist. Why’re we only seven? Because the other gods thought they were invincible, they ignored the basic rule, the rule of the humans.’
‘The rule of the humans?’ Hermes questioned, his face twisting with anger, his lips spraying spittle everywhere. ‘The rule of the humans. That is a falsehood, a massive lie, a fallacy, humans don’t rule. The gods rule.’
Esme looked defiantly at Hermes, she seemed to spark with power, her eyes flashed like lightning bolts, her hair seemed to cackle with electricity, ‘You’re a fool Hermes, and a cruel and spiteful god, you don’t deserve any followers. What say you Bagarnack?’
‘Ahhh,’ Bagarnack smiled and looked at Elijah, ‘I congratulate you Snorker, oh, my apologies,’ by the smirk on his face he wasn’t apologetic at all, ‘Elijah. Not only have you entered the Great Hall of the Gods and survived with your life, but you’ve also turned the gods against one another. A feat which no other human, nor any other god, has ever managed.’ He turned to face Esme, his lips curling with undisguised menace, ‘But we all know Elijah has been receiving lots,’ and he sneered, ‘and lots of help. And we all know Elijah’s not what he seems.’
‘Of course,’ answered Esme, with the same amount of menace, ‘we all have our favourites, don’t we Bagarnack?’
‘What’s going on here?’ asked Hermes, ‘is there something the rest of us should know about?’
Esme laughed, but it was a mirthless laugh, a laugh tinged with sarcasm and disdain. ‘Hermes, you’re the dimmest of the gods. Bagarnack banished Zeus and Dionysus by deception.’
‘No Esme, you are looking for an excuse for their wanderings, their desertion,’ Bagarnack answered smoothly, stroking his long black beard, which seemed to cackle with electricity.
‘Ha, their wanderings, we both know Bagarnack, you lying two faced coward.’
‘Esme,’ shouted Hermes, ‘you’re breaking the rule of the Great Hall.’
‘Tell me Bagarnack,’ her voice was low, yet dangerous, Elijah could hear every word she was saying, ‘how did you lure Zeus and Dionysus away?’
Bagarnack looked shocked, as did Hermes and all the other gods.
‘You didn’t think I knew did you?’ her voice was cutting, accusing hateful, the injustice rankling in her voice. ‘You tricked them, as you’ve tricked countless other gods. And only then did you attack them, when they could hardly fight back, when they were as nearly dead as gods can be, you bombarded them with every curse, charm, hex and jinx you knew.’ She was shouting now, her voice reverberating across the Great Hall. The other gods were horrified, their mouths hanging open. ‘I accuse you Bagarnack,’ and she radiated an aura of blue power that shimmered around her and made the other gods lean back, then pointed her finger and the blue aura extended forwards, but stopped at Bagarnack’s raised hand, ‘of banishing another god.’
Bagarnack seemed to recover quickly, he smirked, ‘You’re mistaken Esme, you’re looking for any excuse to exonerate Zeus’ and Dionysus’ desertion.’
‘Then where are they?’
‘Probably gone wandering, they’ll turn up.’ Bagarnack was contemptuous.
‘Yes, they most probably will, when they find a way out of the void.’
‘They’re not in the void, the void doesn’t exist, it’s a rumour,’ he waved his hands dismissively. ‘Now Elijah,’ he said, quickly changing the subject, ‘you’ve issued the gods a challenge, which I for one, am willing to accept.’
‘You cannot accept Bagarnack,’ Hermes’s voice was authoritative, ‘I’ll not allow it, I’m the Arbitrator.’
‘Pipe down Hermes,’ shouted Bearbert, ‘you’re only Arbitrator because we say you are. I’m also willing to accept.’
Bagarnack grunted and nodded, ‘I knew you would Bearbert, you have an over-inflated view of your powers.’
Bearbert gave a great booming laugh. ‘You think you know me Bagarnack? I who have travelled across the universe. Where’ve you travelled Bagarnack? No-where but the four planets we’ve been chased from. Now you’re concentrating your powers on the three continents, your parochialism will be your downfall.’
Bagarnack ignored Bearbert, disdainfully waving his hands, and turned to Esme, ‘What about you Esme?’ Bagarnack’s was challenging, ‘are you willing to once again become human and face me?’
Esme took a deep breath that seemed to quiver her whole godly body, but her eyes were like arrows as she glared at him, ‘I’m willing to face you anytime Bagarnack, god or human.’
‘This is sacrilege, this is a betrayal of the ideal of the gods, of the rules of the Great Hall.’ Hermes seemed to be in a great panic, his arms out wide, his face seeming to border on hysteria, and Elijah looked at the other gods, and saw apprehension and, he could hardly believe it, fear. Then, he realised nothing like this had ever happened in the Great Hall before. He’d done this; he’d done this to the gods. Whoa, wait, this was a dream, an hallucination, he was under the influence of gollyean, this wasn’t happening, he couldn’t be in the Great Hall of the Gods, in reality he’d be blasted into infinity.
‘And what of you Elijah?’ Bagarnack’s voice was strangely - nice, ‘are you willing to face me in the Centuria?’
He felt full of confidence, what a stupid question, of course he was willing, it was his hallucination, his dream, he could say what he wanted. ‘I’m here now, facing you Bagarnack, in the Great Hall of the Gods, you’re not frightening me now, so you certainly won’t frighten me in the Centuria.’
And to Elijah’s surprise Bagarnack smiled. ‘Ah Elijah, there’s a fine line between bravery, stupidity and insanity, which applies to you?’
‘Whichever you want Bagarnack, I’m not particularly bothered either way.’ Elijah smiled up at the enormous face looking down at him.
‘Then Elijah,’ his smile vanished, and was replaced by a scowl, ‘you should go back to Worlyn and prepare.’
Elijah awoke in the first bed that he’s slept in Worlyn’s underground hideout to something very hot, practically burning, frantically licking his cheek. It was Muppy, then excitedly rubbing the side of her head against his long downy black beard, and then licking him again. He reached up and gently stroked her head, and she whined with pleasure, and rubbed her body against his hand.
‘At last, you’re awake!’
Elijah looked around to see Worlyn smiling at him. ‘What time is it?’
‘Better to say what month is it?’
Elijah was confused, ‘What?’
‘You’ve been asleep for nearly seven months, I’ve been force-feeding you the herb potion by spoon. Thankfully, the effects of Bagarnack’s spells are wearing off. Now, I want you to drink all of this.’ He gestured towards a large shinny steel goblet that was full to the brim with a sickly green liquid. ‘Come on Twinkle, my beauty,’ he gently took her off his shoulder and placed her on his chair, then reached over and scooped Muppy in his hands, ‘go and play with Twinkle.’ Muppy ran to the little dragon, resting her two front paws on the edge of the seat and began growling and harrying her. Twinkle, giving a little snort of flame that singed Muppy’s ear, flapped her leathery wings and flew to the shelf.
Worlyn laughed, ‘They get on really well, love one another.’ Then he grasped Elijah’s shoulders and helped him sit. ‘Drink.’
But the room was spinning, black dots were floating before his eyes, he was disorientated, then before he realised he was staring at the ceiling, the back of his head hurting. He heard a strange voice, and then Worlyn’s.
‘Yes, yes, thank you, I know. No, I didn’t forget what you told me. Stop going on, you’re worse than my twenty third wife, or was it the twenty second? Actually, I think the both of them were champion nags. Yes, yes, yes, I’m doing it.’
Elijah felt his head lifted up and the goblet pressed to his lips and a cool bitty liquid was in his mouth. It was not unpleasant, tasting of sager, wilderflower, bettany, dickory and pelladonna. He knew each of the herbs and flowers, but did not know what their properties were when mixed, nor what this combination would do. He had tasted them all separately and had felt their effects. Sager was a restorative, a pick-me-up, a tonic, that was used after an illness. Wilderflower was supposedly good for the circulation. Bettany was good for curing nasty blood infections. Dickory was also good for the circulation, but only to one area of the body. Pelladonna was a skin restorative, used by aged women, and men, to make themselves look younger. It tightened the skin, banishing all fat, practically shrunk it until, if used in excess, the person looked like a skull with skin. He’d gotten it for Creap’s mother everyday, and she looked like the screaming skull. Why was he being given that? And he could taste minger, but that was difficult to collect, it only grew during the night, died and withered with the first rays of the sun. It was supposed to contain magical properties that gave great strength and bravery. Creap was always telling him to get it, but had only managed it a couple of times.
He managed to drain the goblet.
‘Well done Elijah, well done,’ Worlyn smiled, his tattoos moving with his grin. ‘I can see you’re again exhausted, we’ll leave you, but, hopefully, you shouldn’t sleep as long.’ Worlyn touched Elijah’s shoulder and gave it a gently squeeze, stood and left, but Elijah still felt a presence and looked to where Bearbert had been sitting, but there sat, not the giant bat he’d been expecting but a rather stocky, ginger-haired man, smoking a pipe, wearing the same white flannelette pyjamas with the big red lips.
‘Who’re you?’ Elijah croaked.
‘You know who I am,’ the man’s voice was deep and strong.
‘I don’t.’
‘I’m Bearbert.’
Elijah was shocked, ‘But Bearbert was a giant bat?’
‘That’s the form I usually take when I appear to humans, unless I choose otherwise.’
‘I’m human.’
‘Yes, but you’re different.’
Elijah was confused, ‘I don’t understand, how am I different?’
‘Well,’ Bearbert smiled as he took a deep suck of his pipe and blew the grey smoke into the air, ‘you’re still alive.’
‘Why’s that?’
Bearbert chuckled, crossed his other leg and took a great suck of his pipe, blowing the smoke into the air, and as though he couldn’t help himself, burst into laughter. ‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.’
‘But you’re a god, you know everything.’
‘I wish I did, everything would be so much simpler.’ He stared at Elijah for a moment, still smoking his obnoxious pipe and flicking his foot up and down as though kicking an imaginary football. ‘There are so many things Elijah, the universe is so vast. I’ve travelled. I didn’t have any ambitions, I just wanted to travel, I pushed the limits, I travelled. I found galaxies where there was no magic, where the inhabitants had developed their science so that it rivalled magic, where it could beat magic, where I could be killed. They were not gods in the sense we know it, but they were gods because of their intelligence, their science, their knowledge. They would have imprisoned, perhaps even killed me had I not fled, such was their power.’
Elijah was shocked, ‘Can gods be killed?’
‘I have not heard of a god being killed, but whilst I was there I had the impression their science could have killed me. They despised magic, deplored the idea that there were gods who had supreme magic, hated the idea that our society is structured in such a way that the gods are at the top when they haven’t earned the right.’
‘What were these beings?’
‘Living machines, beings made from metal that lived, breathed and thought, beings beyond cruelty, that would destroy a planet, even a solar system, if it suited their plans.’
‘How do they fit into the Order?’
Bearbert sat up with a start, quickly uncrossing his leg and removing his pipe. ‘Who told you about the Order?’
Elijah knew he’d said something wrong, very wrong, and knew that he’s landed Worlyn in a great pile of eunicon dung. ‘I, I, heard it somewhere.’
‘Worlyn told you.’ It was not a question but a statement.
Elijah was scared witless, what had he done? But Worlyn didn’t say never to mention the Order.
Bearbert sat back and waved his pipe hand irately, ‘It doesn’t matter: I suppose it will be common knowledge soon.’ He pointed the end of his pipe at Elijah. ‘You’ll keep drinking the potion Worlyn prepares for you, you’ll bathe in the blue lake every day, and you’ll keep your questions to yourself. Oh, and shave that excuse for a beard off, it looks terrible. ’
And before Elijah could apologise Bearbert disappeared.
When he was fully mobile the first thing he did was shave his beard off. For the next week he kept his head down, drinking the herb potion three times a day. Curiously, the potion filled him so that he never felt hungry. He bathed in the waterfall, which made him feel refreshed and stronger with every dip, but he kept his questions to himself, Bearbert’s voice and admonishment ringing in his memory. He’d also noticed that Worlyn had removed all the mirrors, and the blue lake, even when there were no ripples, did not show his reflection. He knew it was magic, because he felt fantastic after. Every time he saw the eunicons he wanted to approach them, but Worlyn shooed him away, saying he wasn’t ready, saying the eunicons would skewer him if he approached them. Bearbert had not visited since that night, and to his utter despair and sadness, Esme had not visited either. He was beginning to feel abandoned; perhaps they didn’t care how he was. He remembered hearing two of Zanatos’ cooks talking about the legend of the beautiful youth Savermaine, how one of the gods had fallen hopelessly in love with Savermaine’s beautiful mother Brisbanie, a woman of such outstanding beauty that even a god had lost his head with love and infatuation. The god transformed himself into her husband, took on his human characteristics and made love to her, made her pregnant and she gave birth to Savermaine. He
Elijah had heard many stories like that, where the gods took a liking to a human, favoured them, but became bored, and turned them into statues, pigmoors, horse dropping, ferrets, anything they liked. Was that his fate?
No, he’d keep his mouth shut and do as they said. But of course, if the gods wanted to turn him into a cockroach, what could he do about it? Nothing.
‘Now Elijah.’
Elijah turned quickly, he hadn’t heard anyone enter, so deep was he into his thoughts. Worlyn was standing before him, wearing a set of bright purple robes with orange piping, holding in his arms two pieces of wood, a walking stick, a long white bone, what looked like a stiffened bat’s wing, a petrified shrunken hand, a feather duster, an umbrella, a polished dark wood staff, black coloured leather gloves, a wand, and a ripped sleeve from a leather coat.
‘Esme has said it’s time for your magical education,’ he dropped all the items onto the bed.
Elijah was eager, ‘You’ve seen Esme?’
‘Course not; she came to me as a eunicon. She’s just too beautiful, she knows her beauty can send most men, and plenty of women, insane. Now, before you choose your magical conductus.’
‘My what?’
‘The object which you channel and concentrate your magic through. For example this wand,’ he picked up a step long, thin piece of light coloured wood, ‘comes from the Yew tree, where the great wizard Ted Barley urinated after his daily sessions of drinking fairy made wine. Here try it.’ He passed it to Elijah, who took it. ‘Well do something with it.’
Elijah looked blank, wondering what was wanted of him.
‘Give it a flick and concentrate on making that chair disappear.’
Elijah flicked and concentrated. Nothing happened.
‘No,’ Worlyn looked disappointed, ‘nevermind,’ and took the wand, ‘this is what should happen,’ and flicked the wand at the chair, it loudly cracked into big fat pig that squealed piercingly and ran off. Worlyn chuckled, ‘Breakfast for the next week. Maybe, the staff.’ He picked up a long thick staff made of a dark knobbly wood and held it out for Elijah to take, who took it in both hands. ‘That was the staff of Sible. She lived for two thousand years, defeated the dark wizard Ukrend in a titanic battle that lasted for five years. They were evenly matched until Sible transmogrified herself into flesh-eating bacteria that ate Ukrend’s wand arm off, only then was she able to defeat him. This is a little different from a wand, you have to hold it in both hands, pointing the end, and think what you want to do,’ Worlyn took the staff back off Elijah and held the staff exactly so as an example. ‘Channel all your mental energy into the staff; think it’s an extension of your mind and magical powers. Point it at the bed, no, no, something smaller, that jug, and make it disappear.’ He handed it back.
Elijah held the staff exactly as Worlyn had, pointed at the jug and concentrated on making it disappear. Nothing happened, he tried again, his face screwing in concentration, still nothing. He looked at Worlyn who looked both puzzled and disappointed.
‘Nevermind, nevermind,’ Worlyn chirped in a falsely exaggerated voice. ‘Maybe the walking stick.’ He picked up the beautifully polished dark wood stick, with lighter wood bands near the rounded handle. ‘Wonderful craftsmanship. This was used by Unbready the Unsteady, great wizard, but was cursed at a Centuria tournament by two wizards that got mixed up with their venues, both came into the arena and cursed Unbready at once, that was their story, but I have my doubts. Anyway, the two curses were incompatible and left Unbready severely unbalanced, not in his mind obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ Elijah answered and Worlyn gave him a reproachful stare.
‘To continue. Unbready’s patron god was Phoebe, lovely goddess, do anything for anyone, well, within limits obviously. She’s the goddess of loneliness. According to Bearbert she’s the only one that wanted it. Unbready asked Phoebe if she’d bless his walking stick, which she did, therefore endowing it with great inherent magical powers, and that’s why Unbready kept winning the Centuria for nearly three centuries, until the other gods caught on and began blessing all kinds of things. It all went a bit silly, wizards were using all kinds of things as conducti, gloves, boots, cucumbers that never decayed, carrots, sticks of celery, turnips, socks, back scratchers, fluffy dusters, you get the drift. So the gods all agreed to remove their blessings, but Phoebe only pretended to, so this walking stick still has great magical powers. Now, pay attention. You only need one hand with the walking stick, whichever hand you favour, point it and concentrate on making the jug, no, not the jug, maybe something even smaller, that goblet on the table, make that disappear.’ He passed the stick to Elijah.
Elijah took the walking stick and put it into his right hand.
‘Can you feel it vibrating?’ asked Worlyn eagerly.
In truth, it just felt like wood to Elijah. Should he say no, or lie. ‘It feels warm.’
Worlyn seemed to deflate before his eyes. ‘Try to make the goblet disappear.’
Elijah pointed the stick and concentrated. Disappear, disappear, disappear, he thought over and over again, please, please, please, disappear.
Nothing whatsoever, the stick didn’t vibrate, shake, move, become warm, or do absolutely anything.
‘Not to worry, not to worry,’ cried Worlyn artificially, really looking as though he was about to burst into tears, ‘we’ve got loads to try yet. The thighbone, the thighbone,’ he shouted, ‘we haven’t tried the thighbone. This,’ he said picking up the thighbone, and waving it about, Elijah thought he saw it giving off golden sparks, ‘is the thighbone of Lindante,’ continued Worlyn, Lindante was an exceptional witch, she could do things that even the gods admired. It was rumoured that she was the result of a coupling between the goddess Dementer, who was the goddess of secrets, and the wizard Noveletty, who was also a powerful wizard, rumoured to be a demi-god. But, that’s only rumour, none of the gods would confirm or deny that. The problem being was that Lindante upset Bagarnack.’
‘How?’
‘She ranted at Bagarnack about rotrobbers, calling them the most foulsome creatures ever to walk the earth, along with other things.’
‘Had the rotrobbers upset her?’
‘Only the gods know, and they wouldn’t tell me so I never pressed it, never badger the gods for an answer. As you know, or do you?’ Worlyn looked at Elijah in a puzzled manner, as though he wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about. ‘Nevermind,’ Worlyn continued, ‘rotrobbers are Bagarnack’s creation, so he wasn’t very happy about her criticising them. In retaliation he glued her lips together so she couldn’t speak, but neither could she eat or drink, and Bagarnack conveniently forgot about that. Of course she died. But that’s beside the point. This thigh-bone is a great magical conducti, used it loads of times. It’s one fault is that it seems to favour some spells, and I’m not being misogynistic here,’ he stopped and looked around twice.
Elijah didn’t have a clue what he was talking about as he also looked around.
‘It favo
‘What sort of spells?’
‘You know householdy type spells,’ again he looked around, his eyes roaming like a sewer rat’s, ‘cleaning, cooking spells, that type of thing, not much good if you want to vanish a hundred rotrobbers.’
‘Where did you get her thigh bone from?’ Elijah had a mental picture of a dirt encrusted, sweating Worlyn digging up bones from her grave.
‘Bearbert gave it to me about three hundred years ago, so you can be sure it genuine. Right, okay, yes, erm, what was I? Oh yes, you hold the bone exactly like the wand and walking stick, point it at the goblet and will it to disappear.’ He passed the bone to Elijah who took it. Worlyn gave a big reassuring smile. ‘It should start to feel very nice and warm and comfortable in your hand. Hold it up, that’s it. Any second now you’ll feel its power flood through your body, it should make you feel strong. Do you feel it, do you feel it?’
In truth Elijah felt nothing except the sweat of his palm making the bone slippery, he was beginning to think the gods had made an almighty mistake.
‘Point it at the goblet, concentrate, and make it disappear.’
Elijah concentrated, and concentrated, and concentrated, and willed the goblet to disappear. Nothing happened, then a thought came to him, perhaps if he said it out aloud, shouted, it would happen. ‘DISAPPEAR,’ Worlyn stepped back, surprised, but nothing happened, ‘VANISH,’ he shouted, and Worlyn was looking at him as though he was an incantation short of a spell, and still nothing.
‘What’re you shouting for?’
‘I thought it might work if I said the words.’
Worlyn looked exasperated, he looked around as if looking for a god to confide in, then raised his hands in the air and let them slap against his thighs. ‘Have I taught you nothing?’ his voice was taut and tense.
Elijah was about to agree with him then realised an answer wasn’t required.
‘The magic comes from inside you,’ Worlyn pressed five fingers into Elijah’s chest, and spoke with an urgency Elijah hadn’t heard before ‘from there,’ and pressed harder, practically prodding him. ‘The magic’s inside you, it’s a power that you can call upon whenever you want.’ Worlyn gave a great sigh and looked totally lost and confused. He glanced around and found an armchair, that Elijah was sure wasn’t there a moment ago, went to it and flopped down. He buried his face in his hands, then massaged his face, roughly rubbing his hands over his tattooed head, kneading his knuckles into his eyes, pulling at his beard, wringing his hands, then he took a great breath and sighed. He looked at Elijah with sadness in his eyes. ‘I forgot, Bearbert wants me to tell you a morality story.’
‘What’s a morality story?’
‘Shut up and listen. Many, many thousands of years ago thousands of wizards were exploring the three continents. They were on Chestor, grinding their way through the salt desert when they came across a large, weatherworn sandstone block, as big as a house, on it was carved “I am the Wizard King Ossiemandayous, to whom even the gods bend their knee. Look upon my great works and tremble.”
‘The wizards looked around, there was nothing but sand. They wondered where the great works were, and what had happened to them? Because they could find no evidence, except for the large, carved sandstone block. They came back and recorded their find, but no one had ever heard of this Ossiemandayous, and there weren’t any records of him in the Great Library. After a number of years the records were stored and forgotten in the library. Twenty thousand years passed, and an apprentice came to me, asking who Ossiemandayous was. Obviously, I’d never heard of him, but then again, there were thousands of wizards I’d never heard of. I told him as much, but when he recounted the story to me my curiosity was aroused. I searched the Great Library and found nothing but that reference. I asked Bearbert, and this is what he told me.
‘Ossiemandayous was perhaps the most gifted wizard that ever lived, his power was awesome. But he grew too much to admire his own skill and set himself up as a god. And when the gods didn’t interfere he grew in his own vanity, he began to build temples to himself. And still the gods didn’t interfere as he became absolute ruler of the three continents. His word was law, none would oppose him. The gods became angry that Zeus would not sanction him. But Zeus made them be patient and not chastise Ossiemandayous.
‘Ossiemandayous decided, as great as he was that he’d build the greatest temple ever seen as befitting his prodigious skill, a testimony to the most powerful wizard that ever lived, himself.
‘He enslaved the populace, had a million slaves plus working on his magnificent temple day and night. After nearly a thousand years the temple was finished. It was higher than a thousand man heights, longer than a million steps, wider than half a million steps. It was magnificent, stupendous, glorious, even the gods admired it, Ossiemandayous had used the finest sculptors to chisel statues in the finest marble of black, green and white, mostly of himself, in different outfits, but sometimes of his favourite dog, horse or butterfly, he liked butterflies. The pillars rose to the skies, the floors glittered, gleamed, shone and stretched until they disappeared into the distance. But what he didn’t realise was that the people hated him, the slaves hated him, the merchants hated him, everyone hated him.
‘The temple was perfect, except for three tiny flaws. One of the central marble pillars had a small crack in it that a wasp decided would make a good home. One of the foundation stones also had a small crack that a colony of ants decided would make a good home. And the massive timber support of boak that supported the great central dome had woodworm.
‘For thousand of years these three colonies grew, enlarged, spread out, created other colonies, but all the time they were gnawing, chewing, eating away at the very fabric of Ossiemandayous’ magnificent temple, until after a thousand years the temple was naught but a hollow shell.
‘The two thousand year old Ossiemandayous had taken to banishing everyone from his temple and just began to walk its endless rooms and corridors devoted to his magnificence.
‘Then one day, as he was passing one of the central pillars, he tripped over his sumptuous robes and reached to the central pillar to support himself. To his surprise his hand went right through the hard marble and thousands of wasps came out attacking him. Of course wasps wouldn’t bother him, he was the greatest wizard alive and created a protective shield around himself.
‘Unfortunately, no magic shield is strong enough to protect from millions of tons of stone, marble and wood falling on one’s head.
‘His temple crashed around him, like a pack of cards, killing him, leaving nothing but dust, and, of course, the big sandstone block.’
‘And the moral of this is?’
Worlyn stared at Elijah, somewhat dumbfounded as though the moral was obvious. ‘Work it out for yourself. Now, I want you to try the other things. The gloves, try the gloves,’ his voice sounded weary, tired, as though it was a hopeless cause, but he was trying to be enthusiastic.
Elijah picked up the black leather gloves, separated them, then put them back together, and flicked them at the goblet, again nothing happened.
‘DOZY DRAGOYLES!’ Worlyn shouted, and then seemed to control himself. ‘You’re supposed to put them on.’
‘Oh,’ Elijah gave an apologetic shrug, and put each glove on.
‘Now try various finger movements like this,’ Worlyn demonstrated, his fingers making complicated motions as though they were made of rubber rather than skin and bone because they seemed to bend at unnatural angles, bend over backwards and touch the back of his hand, movements that made Elijah gasp and stare in disbelief.
‘I, I, I can’t do that,’ Elijah spluttered.
Worlyn looked surprised, then continued in a stern voice, ‘What? Even a ten year old trainee warlock can make these hand movements, they are basic to magic, if you can’t do them, you can’t do magic.’
‘Where’re you going, come back here now? Typical moody teenagers, it’s all those raging hormones.’ And stopped, and thought, what’re hormones?
Elijah ignored him, he was becoming sick and angry at all this expectation of him being able to do magic. He ran down one dark, torch lit corridor into another, even darker corridor, and continued running until he came to a T-junction and chose the right and continued running. He could only just make out the sides of the wall as it became darker and darker. How long he was running for he could only guess, he passed doors and alcoves that seemed to hide things he would rather not see. Then the corridor ended at a large, roughly hewn dark wooden door, and he hesitated, he’d had two bad experiences of entering doors in these dark caverns. He had two alternatives, go back, which he certainly didn’t feel like doing, because those alcoves scared him, he caught glimpses of dark things, shadows, things that threatened his mind rather that his body. He decided to risk it, grasped the handle and opened the door.
It was like walking into another world away from the bare gloomy rough-hewn smoke stained walls and dismalness of Worlyn’s underground caverns and tunnels. Here it was bright, with mostly white and green marble that was reassuring, warm and comforting. It was a great hall, larger than any hall he had ever imagined, with Ionic columns that supported massive arches that seemed to stretch thousands of steps into the air, supporting domed ceilings with the most fantastic frescoes of muscled handsome heroes, lithe beautiful heroines, fantastic beasts, and gods cavorting with humans. He felt like an insect in a giant’s living room. Every wall was painted, and the hall seemed to go on forever, until it disappeared to a point. The artwork was so fantastic that the figures, the landscapes, the creatures seemed to be moving, playing and depicting stories that, as far as he could make out, showed epic stories of heroism and bravery, showed battles, conflicts, acts of unselfish courage and gallantry. He was mesmerized to the point he couldn’t move, but kept staring at the paintings.
How long he watched he had no idea, as one painting’s story ended another would begin immediately. It was another tale of fortitude and fearlessness, Of another hero that had fought against the odds, had triumphed when all seemed hopeless, when dark forces, dark gods, wizards, monsters, evil giants, hordes of dragons, acting in unison, scorching cities, towns and villages with their fiery breath, threatened to engulf them, threatened to destroy the known universe. But, Elijah realised, it seemed to happen over and over, again and again. The Dark Forces gathered, building in strength, taking over, ruling, changing the order of things, imposing their rule, implementing their upside-down rule, and the hero, and this was the surprise, or the heroine, would save the day.
After a while his legs gave way and he slumped on the hard marble floor, but still he couldn’t stop staring at the paintings, following the stories of the bravest of the brave.
And, then, without warning, he was lifted fifty steps into the air so fast it made his head spin, and was being carried along the great hall, past all of the frescoes, and the columns whizzed by, and he realised he was being held gently, cupped in a giant hand, the fingerprints were like ploughed ridges. He looked up but could only see the underside of a black bearded chin, then he heard voices: loud voices that echoed throughout the giant hall, and turned his head so quickly he almost cricked his neck.
Before him was an immense circular room with a vast domed painted ceiling, in the centre was a colossal white marble circular table around which were seated a large number of giants.
‘Look what I’ve found,’ boomed out a voice from above his head that Elijah thought sounded familiar.
The giant hand placed him gently on the huge table and withdrew. Elijah looked up and fell over backwards: Bagarnack, the enormous face of Bagarnack was staring at him.
‘Hello Snorker, how did you escape?’ But Bagarnack’s voice was not angry, nor was his countenance; actually, he appeared to smile at Elijah.
‘Now Bagarnack,’ and Elijah recognised the stern voice of Bearbert, ‘you know the rules.’
‘I certainly do,’ Bagarnack’s booming voice was hard and uncompromising, ‘but rules can be changed.’
‘Bagarnack,’ it was a feminine voice that Elijah turned to, and the giant face that he looked at was dark with anger, her eyes black with outrage, ‘our rules cannot be changed, and don’t you dare attempt to change them: you know as well as any of us the consequences.’
‘Consequences,’ Bagarnack laughed, and the whole great hall seemed to vibrate with his laughter, ‘what consequences? Rumour, myth and legend. Are we not gods?’
And Elijah heard many booming voices agree and urge Bagarnack to continue.
‘Are we to be constrained by a rumour of something that doesn’t exist? Do we not have the power? Can we not make worlds collide, not make suns explode? We, who have existed since time began, we who can create life, take life, destroy.’
‘Yes Bagarnack, you are excellent at destroying, at spreading disharmony and discord.’
Elijah instantly knew that voice and turned. There was the beautiful face of Esme, smiling at him, but also scowling at Bagarnack.
‘You are mistaken Esme, I only have the welfare of the gods as my main concern.’
‘Your main concern is your own welfare, your insatiable love of power, your desire to rule the universe so that you have already broken the rules, with no thought of the consequences to us.’
‘There are no consequences to us.’
‘There is when one god fights another.’
‘Tell me Esme, which gods have been fighting one another?’
‘Oh Bagarnack,’ Esme practically spat his name out, ‘do not add perjury to your long list of crimes against the gods.’
Bagarnack straightened and glared at her, ‘What crimes would they be then Esme, and where is your proof?’
‘Both of you are flouting the rules.’ Elijah looked at the blonde haired handsome god that had spoken. ‘We do not bring our differences into the Great Hall. This is where we honour one another’s contribution. We do not resort to,’ and he lowered his voice, ‘violence.’ He paused to allow his words to take effect, and then continued. ‘Now, we must ask ourselves, how has a human found his way into the Great Hall of the Gods, and survived?’
Every eye turned to Elijah, and he quailed under their collective stares. All he could see were enormous, gigantic black pupils surrounded by irises that contained the universe, with stars, planets, moons and gas clouds staring questioningly at him, he felt so small, so insignificant. He collapsed onto the tabletop and curled into a ball, pulling his knees tightly into his chest and closing his eyes, expecting to be blasted into ashes any moment.
‘Elijah, there is no need to be frightened,’ it was Esme’s soothing voice, ‘No harm will befall you here, you are safe. The gods only want answers. Please stand.’
Quickly Elijah stood, when a god requested, you did it as fast as you could. He tried not to look at any of the god’s faces, thinking they would be displeased at his brashness, but he wanted to look at Esme, to gaze upon her beautiful face, lose himself in her magnificent eyes; but he continued to stare at the enormous table top he was standing upon.
‘Look at me,’ the blonde haired god commanded.
Elijah turned and looked into the handsome features, but he noticed the eyes and mouth were not so handsome; they were giving exactly opposite messages, ones of dislike, impatience, disbelief and anger. And suddenly he knew why, he had entered into the Gods’ great hall, when he shouldn’t have done, he should have been killed in that corridor, and yet he hadn’t been.
The blonde haired god c
Elijah could do nothing but nod anxiously. Hermes, the god of the harvest of the grape, wheat, malt, hops and sugar, the god that had taught humans how to make wine, beer and spirits, the god that would destroy if he visited one of his temples and found it empty, or found that the gifts were not to his satisfaction. He was a terrible angry god that would take grotesque retribution on the people who had displeased him. Many times he’d heard the wine and beer makers in Dragoylia planning their gifts and sacrifices to Hermes, making sure their gifts were plentiful.
‘I have been appointed Arbitrator of the Gods for the past millennium. I’ll be the one questioning you. Do you understand?’
Again Elijah nodded, surreptitiously glancing upward.
‘How did you gain entry into the Great Hall?’
Elijah took a deep breath, ‘I was in Worlyn’s underground chambers.’
‘Ahhh,’ Bagarnack murmured.
‘Who is Worlyn?’ asked a goddess, whom Elijah recognised from her statues as Mnemosyne.
‘A wizard,’ answered Esme.
‘A human?’
‘Yes.’
‘Continue human.’
‘We had an argument and I ran out, ran until I found myself in a long corridor with lots of deep dark alcoves.’
‘The Corridor of Shadows, you’re just an ordinary, how did you survive?’ asked Hermes
Then Elijah knew, oh it was so simple, and he was so stupid, he thought he’d smelled it in the drink Worlyn had given him, gollyean, an hallucinogenic that put the victim into a deep and prolonged sleep, that caused fantastic dreams that seemed real, and could last for months, even years. Suddenly, he was no longer afraid, this was all an hallucination, a gollyean dream, it wasn’t real, this Great Hall wasn’t real, the gods weren’t real, Hermes wasn’t real, and he looked up and his eyes met Esme’s gentle love, and wished it was real just for that look from Esme. This was all an hallucination, a fantastic dream, and then it struck him; was he imagining Esme’s favouring him, even liking him? But, why not? It was his dream, his fantasy; he could have, could do, and could be, whatever he wanted, yes, whatever he wanted. First thing, he wanted to be a big as Esme.
Hermes’s booming voice spoke, ‘I asked you a question.’
He was still small; maybe that was part of the fantasy.
‘My patience is wearing thin, answer my question or suffer my wrath.’
‘Wrath, wrath? Who do you think you are?’ Elijah felt their collective intake of breath. ‘Oh, I forgot, you’re the gods, you please yourselves what you do, without any thought of your actions.’ He was on a roll, and he hated the gods, except Esme, he hated everything they stood for, everything they represented, after all, this was but a dream, an hallucination, he could say what he liked, it was his dream. ‘You think you’re all above reproach, because you are gods. You think every living creature is beneath you because you’re gods. You think all are yours to command, yours to control, yours to destroy, yours to play stupid games with. You create life, create monsters that tackle and fight other monsters that other gods have created, because you are all cowards, because the gods will not face one another in combat, they use others to do their dirty work, and all the time the innocents suffer. Not one of you care if the child is orphaned, the parents murdered by rotrobbers, or the aftermath of your petty squabbles.’
‘That is enough.’
‘No it’s not! You’re not worthy to be called gods; you’re corrupted by power, by greed, by selfishness. I challenge you, I challenge you to live as a human, this is the challenge, I, Elijah, a puny human, demand of the gods.’
‘Demand?’ shouted Hermes.
‘Now, there’s a thought,’ said Bearbert in a soft voice, a large smile playing around his mouth, ‘that’s something we haven’t tried before.’
All the gods seemed to burst into speech, Elijah heard the words, ridiculous, preposterous, we’re the gods, this insect, should be blasted into infinity, why has he survived?
Elijah shouted, and his voice seemed to be magnified above the chatter of the gods. ‘I challenge you to become human, to become wizards, reinstate and take part in the Centuria Tournament.’ He was stunned, where were these words coming from? Then, again he realised, it was part of the hallucination. ‘Or are you too frightened, frightened that an ordinary wizard may defeat you without your godly powers?’
‘The gods are frightened of nothing,’ Bearbert shouted, ‘Even if we renounced our godhood, we are still magical enough to defeat any wizard.’
‘Prove it.’
The blonde-haired god, Hermes, spoke, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper that contained a deadly menace, and all the gods stopped speaking. ‘The gods don’t need to prove themselves to a human.’
‘No,’ Elijah laughed derisively, ‘that’s a brilliant excuse isn’t it? The indolent gods are above caring what their disposable, expendable subjects think about them.’
‘You insult us Snorker?’ Bagarnack said clearly in his powerful voice.
‘My name is Elijah, is that so difficult for a god to remember?’
All the gods seemed to take a deep breath, none insulted Bagarnack, none insulted the gods, and lived.
Hermes spoke, ‘You’ve insulted the gods,’ his voice reverberated around the Great Hall, ‘Your punishment will be eternal damnation, rotrobbers will rip your limbs off every day, and every night your limbs will regrow, with great pain, to be ripped off again. Is that agreed?’ He looked around.
‘No,’ answered Bearbert loudly.
‘No,’ answered Esme softly, but everyone heard her.
‘No,’ answered Bagarnack, ‘I want to prove to this human that even stripped of our godly powers we still have the courage that he accuses us of lacking.’
Hermes shouted, ‘This is stupidity beyond belief! The gods don’t accede to foolish requests from humans. Throughout the ages they have challenged us, demanded we show ourselves, and when we do, they cower and ask for forgiveness. The blink of a god’s eye is a thousand years to a human. They expect too much.’
‘No Hermes,’ it was Esme who spoke, ‘we gods have interfered too much in the affairs of humans. Elijah is right! We’re cowards, fiercely protective of our godhood, never challenging another god directly, but creating creatures and monsters we hoped would overcome the creatures and monsters other gods had created. Playing our false games that create untold misery throughout the three continents. We come into this Great Hall, and are polite, abide by the rules, never questioning, never disagreeing, when really we should be sorting our differences here, in the Great Hall.’
‘No,’ said Hermes, ‘the Great Hall, as all know, is the neutral place, where we leave all problems outside the door, where we gather in a social setting, where we respect one another, where we listen.’
‘That is absolute rubbish,’ shouted Elijah.
‘HOLD YOUR TONGUE HUMAN,’ shouted Hermes.
‘No,’ Elijah whispered, and the silence was palpable, all the gods were staring at him. There was no sound in the Great Hall at all. He could feel the gods’ eyes boring into him, but that meant nothing, it was all a dream, his dream, he could do whatever, say whatever he liked. ‘I challenge you all to either participate in the Centuria Tournament, or make me a god and I will challenge you all directly.’
Bearbert gave a great booming laugh. ‘He is plucky this one.’
‘He is insane to challenge the gods,’ said a silver haired, smooth-cheeked god, whose name was Ares. ‘Let me kill him?’
Some of the gods agreed.
‘No,’ shouted Bearbert, but then lowered his voice as if what he was about to say was sacrilege, ‘and yet, we all know what will happen if the humans cease to believe in us.’
‘That is a falsehood,’ Hermes answered dismissively, ‘nothing will happen to us.’
‘Is it?’ Esme’s words were tinged with spite. ‘There should be hundreds of gods here, and yet, we’re only seven, where are
‘They’ve gone exploring,’ a long, dark haired, exceptionally beautiful goddess named Artemis said, ‘as Bearbert did. We didn’t see him for aeons, and he turned up. The other gods will.’
‘I doubt it,’ Esme said, ‘we know, but have forgotten, we’ve lived too long, we’ve been in conflict too long, we can’t remember half the creatures we’ve created, nor half the creatures that have been exterminated by other creatures other gods have created. Where are Okeanos, Coeus, Tethys, Zeus, Dionysus, Iapetus, and Rhea? What’s happened to their temples, to their disciples, their followers? I’ll tell you. Their temples are dust, their disciples are dust, and their followers are dust. They are no more, they have ceased to exist.’
‘That’s rubbish,’ Hermes shouted, panic in his voice, ‘they are gods, they cannot cease to exist.’
Esme shouted, her voice cutting, ‘You idiot, we only exist as long as we have followers. If we’re forgotten we cease to exist. Why’re we only seven? Because the other gods thought they were invincible, they ignored the basic rule, the rule of the humans.’
‘The rule of the humans?’ Hermes questioned, his face twisting with anger, his lips spraying spittle everywhere. ‘The rule of the humans. That is a falsehood, a massive lie, a fallacy, humans don’t rule. The gods rule.’
Esme looked defiantly at Hermes, she seemed to spark with power, her eyes flashed like lightning bolts, her hair seemed to cackle with electricity, ‘You’re a fool Hermes, and a cruel and spiteful god, you don’t deserve any followers. What say you Bagarnack?’
‘Ahhh,’ Bagarnack smiled and looked at Elijah, ‘I congratulate you Snorker, oh, my apologies,’ by the smirk on his face he wasn’t apologetic at all, ‘Elijah. Not only have you entered the Great Hall of the Gods and survived with your life, but you’ve also turned the gods against one another. A feat which no other human, nor any other god, has ever managed.’ He turned to face Esme, his lips curling with undisguised menace, ‘But we all know Elijah has been receiving lots,’ and he sneered, ‘and lots of help. And we all know Elijah’s not what he seems.’
‘Of course,’ answered Esme, with the same amount of menace, ‘we all have our favourites, don’t we Bagarnack?’
‘What’s going on here?’ asked Hermes, ‘is there something the rest of us should know about?’
Esme laughed, but it was a mirthless laugh, a laugh tinged with sarcasm and disdain. ‘Hermes, you’re the dimmest of the gods. Bagarnack banished Zeus and Dionysus by deception.’
‘No Esme, you are looking for an excuse for their wanderings, their desertion,’ Bagarnack answered smoothly, stroking his long black beard, which seemed to cackle with electricity.
‘Ha, their wanderings, we both know Bagarnack, you lying two faced coward.’
‘Esme,’ shouted Hermes, ‘you’re breaking the rule of the Great Hall.’
‘Tell me Bagarnack,’ her voice was low, yet dangerous, Elijah could hear every word she was saying, ‘how did you lure Zeus and Dionysus away?’
Bagarnack looked shocked, as did Hermes and all the other gods.
‘You didn’t think I knew did you?’ her voice was cutting, accusing hateful, the injustice rankling in her voice. ‘You tricked them, as you’ve tricked countless other gods. And only then did you attack them, when they could hardly fight back, when they were as nearly dead as gods can be, you bombarded them with every curse, charm, hex and jinx you knew.’ She was shouting now, her voice reverberating across the Great Hall. The other gods were horrified, their mouths hanging open. ‘I accuse you Bagarnack,’ and she radiated an aura of blue power that shimmered around her and made the other gods lean back, then pointed her finger and the blue aura extended forwards, but stopped at Bagarnack’s raised hand, ‘of banishing another god.’
Bagarnack seemed to recover quickly, he smirked, ‘You’re mistaken Esme, you’re looking for any excuse to exonerate Zeus’ and Dionysus’ desertion.’
‘Then where are they?’
‘Probably gone wandering, they’ll turn up.’ Bagarnack was contemptuous.
‘Yes, they most probably will, when they find a way out of the void.’
‘They’re not in the void, the void doesn’t exist, it’s a rumour,’ he waved his hands dismissively. ‘Now Elijah,’ he said, quickly changing the subject, ‘you’ve issued the gods a challenge, which I for one, am willing to accept.’
‘You cannot accept Bagarnack,’ Hermes’s voice was authoritative, ‘I’ll not allow it, I’m the Arbitrator.’
‘Pipe down Hermes,’ shouted Bearbert, ‘you’re only Arbitrator because we say you are. I’m also willing to accept.’
Bagarnack grunted and nodded, ‘I knew you would Bearbert, you have an over-inflated view of your powers.’
Bearbert gave a great booming laugh. ‘You think you know me Bagarnack? I who have travelled across the universe. Where’ve you travelled Bagarnack? No-where but the four planets we’ve been chased from. Now you’re concentrating your powers on the three continents, your parochialism will be your downfall.’
Bagarnack ignored Bearbert, disdainfully waving his hands, and turned to Esme, ‘What about you Esme?’ Bagarnack’s was challenging, ‘are you willing to once again become human and face me?’
Esme took a deep breath that seemed to quiver her whole godly body, but her eyes were like arrows as she glared at him, ‘I’m willing to face you anytime Bagarnack, god or human.’
‘This is sacrilege, this is a betrayal of the ideal of the gods, of the rules of the Great Hall.’ Hermes seemed to be in a great panic, his arms out wide, his face seeming to border on hysteria, and Elijah looked at the other gods, and saw apprehension and, he could hardly believe it, fear. Then, he realised nothing like this had ever happened in the Great Hall before. He’d done this; he’d done this to the gods. Whoa, wait, this was a dream, an hallucination, he was under the influence of gollyean, this wasn’t happening, he couldn’t be in the Great Hall of the Gods, in reality he’d be blasted into infinity.
‘And what of you Elijah?’ Bagarnack’s voice was strangely - nice, ‘are you willing to face me in the Centuria?’
He felt full of confidence, what a stupid question, of course he was willing, it was his hallucination, his dream, he could say what he wanted. ‘I’m here now, facing you Bagarnack, in the Great Hall of the Gods, you’re not frightening me now, so you certainly won’t frighten me in the Centuria.’
And to Elijah’s surprise Bagarnack smiled. ‘Ah Elijah, there’s a fine line between bravery, stupidity and insanity, which applies to you?’
‘Whichever you want Bagarnack, I’m not particularly bothered either way.’ Elijah smiled up at the enormous face looking down at him.
‘Then Elijah,’ his smile vanished, and was replaced by a scowl, ‘you should go back to Worlyn and prepare.’