《A Runaway God》


 Chapter 1: Hektorious

    Emperor Hektorious the Holy of House Makedon, God of Storms, and Divine Sovereign of the Farantine Empire had conquered half the continent, slain dragons and mastered the winds. He could crush iron with his hands and shake mountains with his fury. But today? Today he couldn¡¯t muster a single shit to give about his 10 o''clock council meeting.


    Hektorious resisted the urge to smite his alarm clock as he rolled out of bed, rubbing his bleary eyes. His servants had already prepared a bath for him which he slid into, the near boiling water sending waves of steam off his softly glowing skin. He submerged himself in the lilac scented water and closed his eyes, pretending that he could spend his whole day in the gilded tub.


    Eventually the breakfast bell brought him back to reality and Hektorious clambered out of the bath. He made his way into the dressing room and hordes of emissaries from the tailors guild swarmed him in an instant, each presenting a different and wildly ostentatious outfit.


    He sighed and pushed his way past them to his usual attire, a white military uniform with a purple cape. He cleared his throat and the sea of satins and silks froze. Hektorious held up his uniform by the collar. ¡°I¡¯m fine with the usual. May I ask for some privacy?¡± he said in an apologetic manner. They dispersed dejectedly and Hektorious sighed once again. He supposed that if he wished it he could simply order them to never come again. It was extravagant and wasteful, since clothes tailored for someone of his inhuman height would never fit anyone else. Still, he enjoyed the parade of outlandish costumes every morning. At this point any variety was welcome.


    He adjusted his cape, grabbed his crown off of the hat rack and headed out of his chambers and to the kitchen. Hektorious felt his fatigue lift as he caught a whiff of the wafting scent of spices and exotic flavors. He entered the kitchen through the mahogany double doors and the sounds of clanging pots and pans, sizzling fat and unintelligible screaming greeted him. Hektorious felt a grin creep across his face. Chef Jakoby was in one of his moods again.


    Despite the fact that Hektorious was a seven and a half foot tall deity with glowing skin and Jakoby was a short and portly fellow with spectacles and a darker complexion, the screaming chef¡¯s presence commanded the room and not one of the cooks noticed the emperor enter. He winced as Jakoby began another pointed tirade. Some poor lad who couldn¡¯t have been over sixteen had lost control of the chili powder jar, pouring a mountain of spices onto the scrambled eggs. Jakoby drew himself to all five feet of height, looked up at the youth and barked ¡°YOU LITTLE SHIT!¡± The boy cowered and Jakoby continued. ¡°If you don¡¯t replace that omelet in the next five minutes you whimpering dog, you need not worry about the burning pits. I will beat you so badly that even Farouk won¡¯t find a FUCKING SCRAP OF YOUR SOUL TO BURN!¡±


    He drew in another deep breath to continue, but Hektorious cleared his throat, silencing the kitchen. Jakoby whipped around to face whoever had the gall to interrupt him and found his Divine Emperor standing in the doorway with a wry grin plastered on his face. Instantly the cooks dropped to their knees and began to pray for his forgiveness and mercy as Jakoby stayed standing and waved a spatula in his direction. ¡°What the fuck are you doing in my kitchen? You¡¯ve a breakfast with the Vorish and Abdullid ambassadors in twenty minutes!¡± Jakoby turned and smacked a nearby cook with his spatula. ¡°And get up you shits. I already told you last week that Lord Hektorious doesn¡¯t want your mewling prayers.¡± The cook stood, cringing away from the irate chef. ¡°I¡¯m sorry sir that must have been your last staff. You fired them last week see, we were brought on two days ago Sir,¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯d apologize, but incompetent cooks tend to blend together.¡±


    Hektorious felt his momentary good cheer fade at the mention of his duties. He had forgotten about the damned ambassadors. ¡°I¡¯ll be quick. I''ll just fry up some bacon or something.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not my lord. I¡¯ll not have my Emperor cooking up his own food like a servant.¡±


    Hektorious actually enjoyed making his own food, but he didn¡¯t want to offend his friend so he let the subject drop. ¡°At least one dish before I go¡± he said, grabbing a plate. ¡°These breakfasts are always light on the food and heavy on the talk.¡± Jakoby shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ve sent all the food for the breakfast over to the dining hall already. All that¡¯s left are the eggs for the servants which you¡¯re welcome to if you can stomach that shit.¡±


    ¡°Eggs are fine. May I take these off your hands?¡± Jakoby nodded and Hektorious shoveled the spicy mixture onto his plate.


    He dug into the eggs as he walked through the great wooden doors. The silence of his halls was a startling contrast to noise and smell of Jakoby¡¯s kitchen. Sometimes in mornings like these, the palace felt abandoned. Hektorious knew that nearly two thousand people shared the walls of the castle with him, but his palace had grown so big that you could walk for hours without seeing one of them. You could also walk for hours without finding a proper waste bin, Hektorious thought as he finished his eggs. He disposed of the fork and plate behind a decorative plant when he was sure no one else was looking, promised himself to retrieve it later, and entered the dining hall.


    The Royal Hall took up nearly a third of the Heavenly Palace, and could easily fit a lesser castle within its baroque walls. Titanic tables carved from single trees stretched across the marbled floors and hundreds of multicolored banners hung from the ceiling, each depicting a past victory of Hektorious and the Court of Makedon. A few hundred feet from him, sat the royal table on a raised dais in the middle of the room. Nearly twenty feet long and bone white, the table had been carved from the skull of the immense dragon he had slain three hundred years ago. It served as a grisly memento for Hektorious¡¯s duel with the dragon king Aisirrath the Voiceless Flame, and a warning to all who would think to oppose The Radiant King.


    Hektorious thought that having a skull for a table was incredibly disturbing, but his son Apollus had spent months carving it, and had been glowing with pride as he presented his morbid gift. Hektorious had originally planned to use the grisly table for only a year or two before locking it away in some vault, but it had become a national spectacle that even royalty would travel hundreds of miles to see. Of course it made dinners slightly awkward when the ambassadors of the Draconic Union were served food and drink on the skull of their former monarch, but at this point there¡¯d be an outcry if he so much as covered it with a tablecloth.


    Empress Propenna sat at a silver throne on the head of the table. She was as always, intensely focused and extremely beautiful. She was flipping through folders upon folders of paperwork, spending little more than a second on each page. Hektorious knew that was all she needed to memorize their contents. She wore the same green gown she had worn the night before, which sparkled with the golden light emanating from her skin. Her long brown hair was tied in a bun underneath her gem-encrusted crown, and she towered over her handmaidens even while bent over the piles of paper scattered across the table.


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    She looked up as he approached, her piercing green gaze softening as it came to rest on Hektorious. ¡°Good morning Hektor¡± she said in a warm but wavering voice. As Hektorious approached the dais, he could see bags under her eyes. He clambered up to the table and sat in the ornate golden throne beside her. ¡°You¡¯re exhausted¡± he said. ¡°Propenna, did you sleep tonight?¡± She nodded, still examining the pile of paperwork. ¡°I indulged for about an hour at three. You were already asleep when I entered our chambers, so I napped in my study.¡± Hektorious reached over the table and grabbed a stack of documents, each covered in scribbles. ¡°Here. Let me help you with this¡± he said as he tried to make sense of the weblike drawings that spanned the page. Propenna snatched the papers back in a green blur. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry about these. They¡¯re just schematics for the Vorish-Adbullid bridge we¡¯re discussing at breakfast. I wanted to be sure that I could negotiate properly, so I¡¯m memorizing everything we have on it.¡± Hektorious took her hand, and she looked at him, startled. ¡°Propenna, you amaze me more and more each day, but I¡¯m a little more than an average king myself. Let me at least lighten your load.¡± She laughed and went back to the papers. ¡°Nonsense, it¡¯s not worth your time.¡± Time spent doing what exactly? He wondered, as swarms of servants poured into the room and prepared the hall for breakfast.


    The meal lasted two hours, and Hektorious spoke exactly three times during the course of conversation. He didn¡¯t really understand the engineering behind the bridge, nor the costs required to build it, so he kept silent as usual and let his wife do the talking. He¡¯d been doing this for nearly eighty years, and it had become second nature to him. After the empty plates and dirty napkins were cleared and even the finest points of negotiation were exhausted, Hektorious and Propenna excused themselves and walked down the barren halls of his castle towards his meeting.


    As they walked, Hektorious felt the stale winds of the dusty hallways coil around him, the dry air practically begging for flight. The meeting was set to take place in the Crownspire, which was a long and tedious climb up a hundred flights of stairs. If he flew however, it would be a matter of minutes. He gathered the winds beneath him as they silently screamed to be set loose, but he realized that he was with Propenna, and she couldn¡¯t fly. Sheepishly, he severed the tendrils of air snaking around him with a thought, scattering them in a cloud of dust and a chorus of disappointed whispers.


    Crownspire was the tallest tower in the castle, and situated as it was on the Divine Mountain, probably the tallest tower in the world. The climb was annoying even for gods, and exhausting for mortals. A mechanical lift would have been trivial to install, but the climb kept his nobles from growing too fat and Hektorious had never trusted machines. Except the automobile Hektorious thought idly to himself as they reached the top of the staircase and neared the sounds of shouting leaking from the dark wooden door of the council room. I like the automobile. He had crashed his repeatedly, but he was sure he¡¯d get the hang of it sometime.


    Propenna flung the doors open and they entered, the commotion fading back into silence. ¡°Anyone have any good news?¡± she said as they walked across the disorganized mess of a meeting room and sat in their thrones. Baron Darikus, a tall man with a bushy mustache and the nigh-imperceptibly glowing skin that signified his status saluted. Over the centuries, every noble house had incorporated divine blood into their families, from both Hektorious¡¯ descendants and the Abdullid survivors of Farouk the cruel¡¯s line. The entire second estate had been transformed into semi divine beings, who while lacking the immortality and sheer might of a true god, were still superhuman. They called themselves Godblooded, which Hektorious found ridiculous. But, if being his great great great grandnephew twice removed made them proud, it was no real harm to anyone so he humored their silly titles. Propenna nodded at Darikus and he dropped his salute. ¡°After much debate, the statue subcommittee has decreed that the newest monument will be of your son Prince Aschelon slaying the great boar of Sanrioch. Unfortunately we have yet to decide on the emissary who will take the news to him. Prince Aschelon doesn¡¯t have a radio or phone, and is known to be reclusive, so it¡¯s a serious matter on who we send.¡±


    Hektorious couldn¡¯t help but remember when a serious matter in a council meeting meant Farouk had burned another city, or slaughtered one of his armies. ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡± he said. ¡°I haven¡¯t been to Aschelon¡¯s forests in a while, and I¡¯d like to congratulate him personally on his magnificent hunt.¡± Darikus, taken aback by this suggestion smiled nervously. ¡°My emperor, surely the job of a simple messenger is beneath you.¡± Hektorious stood from his seat, towering over the richly dressed men and women before him. ¡°Are you telling me what I can or cannot do?¡± he asked softly. Darikus spluttered behind his bushy mustache, and Propenna kicked Hektorious lightly in the foot, the motion hidden beneath her dress. ¡°Hektor, perhaps what Darikus meant is that a simple messenger would simply send the desired message.¡± Hektorious sat back down, resisting the urge to kick himself. In a childish display he had nearly shown favoritism to one of his children, upsetting their centuries long balance of power. He hated his stupidity, he hated looking foolish in front of his wife, and he hated being the most useless man in his own empire.


    He withdrew from the discussion, and the meeting continued. They picked a young count with a penchant for hunting to inform Aschelon, and began to plan a new residential district in the growing city of Tomos. Hektorious requested some papers and a pen, but before he could even finish sketching out a single block, Propenna revealed a leather bound book of designs penned by their daughter Hamera. Of course the plan was brilliant, as was typical with Hamera, and it was unanimously chosen as Hektorious crumpled his paper up and tossed it dejectedly in the wastebin.


    In the time it took him to sit back down, the council had already begun discussing a small workers rebellion that had taken place the night before. Laborers had barricaded their factory and living quarters, demanding higher wages and better conditions. Darikus and a few other councilors suggested negotiation, but it seemed the majority favored crushing the strike. Propenna stayed silent, merely observing the discussion as it grew heated. Hektorious stood once again, silencing the crowd with a dismissive wave. ¡°I will ride forth. The workers and the nobles who own the factory will listen to me, and if negotiations fail I can put them down without risking a single soldiers life.¡± He smiled, feeling his long forgotten sense of purpose return in a swell. He was no engineer or urban planner, but this? This was something he could do. Fantasies of factory owners and union leaders thanking him for their newfound cooperation and prosperity danced across his eyes, but they were dashed away as Propenna laughed. ¡°Love, that¡¯d be like swatting flies with artillery. We can just send out a company of regulars with a cannon or two, maybe a mage. We don¡¯t need you to put down some unruly workers.¡±


    Hektorious felt his spirit drop like a puppet with its strings cut. He removed his crown and placed it onto a nearby table. The council had started up again, and not an eye was on him. ¡°No,¡± Hektorious said as he walked to a massive window overlooking the sprawling capital city of Askenia below. He unlatched the great iron windowpane, and a torrent of icy wind spilled into the room. It danced round his ankles like a puppy begging to play, humming silent songs of freedom. ¡°You don¡¯t need me¡± he said, stepping up onto the windowsill. Before anyone could react he jumped, cracking the stonework beneath his boots and sending him soaring out into the morning air.

 Chapter 2: Thera

    Thera had been having a fairly boring morning until a glowing giant fell from the sky and crushed her cart. He impacted into the rickety old thing face first, vaporizing the jars of jam in the back and turning the sandstone street beneath into a small crater. She rushed over to the figure and in horror realized he was lying motionless in a pool of dark red.


    That son of a bitch had ruined her entire shipment of cranberry jam.


    He had also probably died which admittedly was a little worse, but the jam would have made her a pretty penny and by the gods Thera did not have money to lose. After her mother passed and her father went to go work up north, she had no-one else to rely on. She grabbed a largish stick from the pile of shattered wood that was once her cart and prodded him with it. He rolled over with a groan, and Thera¡®s eyes widened. He was still alive! He had to be a wizard. No mortal could have survived a fall at that speed into the loving embrace of stone and shattered glass. She had never met a wizard before, were they supposed to be seven feet tall? Maybe he was a dragon disguised as a human.


    She moved to poke him again, but his hand blurred with inhuman speed and he snatched the stick away before she could react. The man groaned again and pulled himself up to his full height, casting her and the wreckage of the cart in shadow. He was wearing a white uniform that had been horrifically stained by the cranberries, and his features were still obscured by a thick coating of the stuff.


    ¡°Are you okay mister?¡± Thera asked nervously as she backed away and brushed her long dark hair out of her eyes. It had just begun to dawn on her how dangerous this being was. He had ripped the stick from her hand before she even knew he was moving. Nothing should be that fast, especially not something that big. The man was a giant in every sense of the word, his white uniform doing little to hide his rippling muscles, and his shoulders stretching nearly as wide as the cart he had crushed. His statuesque physique reminded her of the historical murals which littered the city, and as he opened his eyes she realized why. They burned blue, like twin bolts of lightning barely contained within that jelly-covered brow. As he wiped his face with the long purple cape trailing from his back, her suspicions were confirmed. He had the same regal features and short-cropped hair that were stamped on every gold coin in her pouch. The Radiant King had just fallen face first into her jam cart. And she had poked him with a stick.


    She stared at him, dumbstruck. Hektorious Makedon was standing before her. Thera¡¯s mother had told her bedtime stories about his battles with the troll kings of the north, his triumph over Aissirath, and his duel with Farouk Blackheart. She had spent twelve years in school learning his proper prayers and rites. Her uncle didn¡¯t even believe he existed. But there he was, covered head to toe in cranberry jam. His eyes focused on her as he wiped the last bit of cranberry off his cheek and she froze with fear. She closed her eyes, preparing for the inevitable smiting via lightning bolt, but it never came. ¡°I broke your cart¡± he said softly, as a strange expression spread across his face. ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry.¡± Was that embarrassment? Thera wondered in confusion. ¡°Are you alright?¡± he continued as she began to process the situation. ¡°I¡¯m fine my lord-er uh your majesty,¡± she stammered. ¡°Pardon me oh Radiant one, I am truly uh, not deserving of your presence.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m wiping jelly off my pants, there¡¯s no need for court language. Hektorious will do fine. May I ask for your name young miss?¡± Thera nodded. ¡°The name¡¯s Thera Majeed. So um, my glorious Lord Hektorious. Forgive my uh, arrogance at asking this but why exactly did you fall into my cart?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a rather embarrassing story actually,¡± he said as he began to examine the wreckage of her cart. ¡°I was flying.¡±


    ¡°Into the ground?¡± She blurted out without thinking. Thera gasped and covered her mouth instinctually, but it was too late. Her uncle had always said that her unending speech would be her undoing, and it looked like he was right. She closed her eyes and prepared for the lightning bolt that was sure to come, but Hektorious just let out a soft laugh. ¡°I¡¯m out of practice.¡±


    This was not what Thera had been expecting. He certainly looked the part of a god king, but Hektorious was supposed to be aloof and wrathful like the storms themselves, not apologetic and mild mannered. ¡°So,¡± he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ¡°This cart was probably worth a lot of money. I¡¯d like to pay you back, but-¡± he tried to say before the wailing of alarm klaxons cut him off. He winced before continuing. ¡°My time is limited and I didn¡¯t think to carry any cash with me, as my exit was a spur of the moment thing.¡±


    Thera could hear a distant commotion headed her way. The alarm made it difficult to hear, but it sounded almost like the squawking of the giant and ravenous war-birds the City Guard rode. It was getting nearer. Thera¡¯s stomach dropped as she realized something very serious was happening, and she was right in the center of it.


    ¡°Ms. Majeed, would you accept collateral? I can¡¯t pay now, but I assure you that I can later. This trinket should show my sincerity.¡± Before she could speak he held out his hand and twitched his fingers. With a crackle of electricity and the burning smell of ozone, threads of lightning burst from his arm and wrapped themselves around his stained sleeve. They twisted their way towards his hand, sizzling and popping as they slithered around his wrist and into his palm. The snaking arcs of electricity coiled themselves into a ball before exploding outward in a blinding flash of light.


    When her vision returned, Thera saw Hektorious holding an ornate broadsword that smoldered with power. It was about four feet long, and its leaf shaped blade glowed a cobalt blue. He let go of the sword which hung in the air. ¡°Synnefo, be polite¡± he said and the sword spun, its hilt facing Thera. Mesmerized, she reached out and the sword floated into her hand. She felt a slight shock as she closed her fist around the worn leather hilt, but she was so enthralled by the ethereal blade that she barely noticed.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Hektorious clapped his hands, jarring Thera out of her trance. ¡°Synefo, take care of the young lady, and Miss Thera I¡¯ll pay for the cart as soon as possible.¡± Thera stared at him bewildered as the angered squawks of constable war-birds grew louder and louder. ¡°Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯ve got to go.¡±


    In a blur he turned and sprinted away down one of the winding roads, leaving Thera bewildered and alone with the glowing blade.


    She looked down at the sword''s shimmering surface. Despite it being a perfectly clear morning, the blue metal reflected a dark sky of broiling clouds which swirled into a pair of eyes. They narrowed, as if they were examining her and a childlike voice laughed in her ear. Now this? This is a pleasant surprise it said, the voice ringing through her head. Thera let out a startled yelp and dropped the sword, which hung motionless in the air. Ah yes, the voice said. I suppose that was fairly rude, but you must forgive me, I have literally never spoken to anyone aside from Hektorious before. I didn¡¯t actually think you could hear me. Thera took a deep breath. All right, she thought. The sword talks. That¡¯s hardly the strangest thing that¡¯s happened this morning. The sword floated back over to her, a red leather scabbard and belt materializing over the cloudy blade. You know I¡¯d love to hash this all out, exchange pleasantries, go for brunch, but I¡¯m afraid a fair amount of the constabulary are headed our way. As it is now my charge to protect you until Hektorious¡¯ debt has been repaid, I¡¯d rather you not get arrested and I would prefer to stay out of an evidence locker. Put me on, and get moving please.


    This is crazy she thought as she grabbed the sword. I¡¯ve done nothing wrong. Why should I run? She buckled the belt around her waist. I should just go quietly and explain what happened. It¡¯d be the sensible thing to after all, but something was wrong. She couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the sword¡¯s voice, inhuman as it was, held nervousness behind its glib exterior. That made her terrified.


    Aside from that, she¡¯d seen a war-bird tear a fully-grown wolf apart and feed it to its hatchlings before, so she wasn¡¯t really keen about getting on the bad side of one.


    A shrill shriek tore through the morning air, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. A War-bird had her scent. She turned away from the screech and began to run as fast as she could back towards the market, leaping over beggars who blocked the way and dodging the many multicolored vendors who littered the streets on an early Apollusday morning.


    Despite her efforts, the shriek was getting closer. She sprinted into the main square looking desperately for a crowd to lose her pursuers in but there was no such luck. The main throng of shoppers wouldn¡¯t be here until after lunch at the very earliest.


    Cursing the laziness of her countrymen, Thera looked over her shoulder and saw a red-cloaked guard barreling down the road towards her on his crazed steed. She cursed and ran to the right, ducking into another alleyway. Additional shrieks joined the first as more began to close in. Thera swore through ragged breaths. She had never been a runner, and the birds would close the distance soon. She had seen what happened to people caught by those damned birds. Thera turned another corner, barely dodging out of the way of a trundling automobile and swore once again at what she saw. The road lead to a yellow stone office building, its red roof at least a hundred feet above the road. She was in a dead end.


    Thera tried to stop, her sandals sliding on the smooth sandstone, but the swords voice was in her ear again. No. It said in a strained voice. Keep running. Trust me. Thera was too tired to argue, so she ran, ignoring the crazed shrieks and the sound of talons scrabbling across the cobblestone that grew closer and closer. When she was about forty feet from the building the sword screamed JUMP! in her ear. She closed her eyes and jumped, expecting the sharp beak of a war-bird to tear into her back at any moment.


    Instead, her feet never touched the ground.


    She opened her eyes and looked down to see the wailing pack of war birds and their red-cloaked riders fifty feet below. She was flying. Well, more like falling slowly, Thera realized as she began to descend. She landed on far edge of the sloped roof, managing to catch on to the red shingles before she slid off the other side.


    Thera ripped the sword off her waist. ¡°What the fuck did you do?¡± she said, her voice shaking. I didn¡¯t do anything really. Just pushed it along. Can we please run? Those birds can fly you know. Thera turned and nearly fell backwards as a war-bird popped its head over the edge of the roof, gnashing its needle filled beak. Or at least climb buildings. The bird pulled its full mass up onto the roof, and the constable riding it pointed his revolver at her head. ¡°Damn shame you had to be mixed up in this miss¡± he said, thumbing the hammer back.


    Thera swallowed. She was going to die. Then with a splash, the gun melted into water. ¡°That¡¯s enough officer!¡± a cold female voice barked from behind her. Thera turned and for the second time that day, she saw a god. Clad in ornate purple armor that leaked vaporous energy; she floated ten feet above the roof, her dark red cape fluttering in the breeze. Her face was a hard and sharp, with high cheekbones and luminescent purple eyes narrowed into slits. Princess Hamera, the Archmage and the Goddess of Magic had just saved her life.


    She flicked her wrist, and a band of golden energy pulled itself into reality beside Thera. With another flick of the wrist, it wrapped itself around her, pinning her arms to the side before she could react. ¡°Next time you chase a witness, don¡¯t shoot them you idiot!¡± snarled Hamera. The constable opened his mouth to protest, but a web of gold encircled both him and his mount before rolling off the roof and plummeting to the ground below. Thera gasped, and the princess shifted her withering glare to her. ¡°They lived. Unfortunately. If you want to, I recommend you stay silent until after we reached the queen. Then, you better talk our fucking ears off about exactly what happened between you and my father.¡±


    Thera nodded, and the golden band lifted Thera off the roof. It expanded into a golden ball that held her trapped within, and both the goddess and her captive flew off through the crystal clear morning to the Heavenly Palace that stood monolithic over the mortal city below.

 Chapter 3: Propenna

    Propenna¡¯s week was looking to be very successful up until her husband had thrown himself out of the window she mused as she sat in her silver throne, staring down at her daughter and a young mortal girl wielding her husband¡¯s sword.


    The girl had the dark hair and the bronzed skin of an Abdullid. Could she be a spy? she wondered, examining the girl before her. An assistant rushed into the room and passed her a stack of papers, which she skimmed through. Propenna shook her head. The girl was a simple Farantine citizen. She had none of the casual athleticism typical of Abdullid agents, and her paperwork checked out. She just happened to have an immigrant for her father, nothing more.


    So why did Hektor give her his sword, and how could she have jumped over a building?


    ¡°Ms. Thera Majeed¡± she said, reading the name off her birth certificate. ¡°You claim that my husband, who is your eternal emperor and god I may remind you, fell from the sky and into your cart, destroying it and its cranberry jam cargo completely. He then proceeded to offer his thousand year old sentient magic sword as collateral for the damages before running away?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes your highness.¡±


    Propenna sighed.


    ¡°That sounds like him.¡±


    Hamera snorted and Propenna leaned forward. ¡°Hamera, have there been any more sightings of your father?¡± Hamera gave her an affirmative nod. ¡°He¡¯s been surprisingly difficult to find for a giant glowing god covered in jelly, but his innate magic is glowing like a beacon so it¡¯s a simple matter for my Perception Cabal to track it. He¡¯s on his way to the South Gate now, and I¡¯ve dispatched the Colonel with a unit of my children to intercept. She¡¯s sworn an oath to bring him back, and I¡¯ve yet to see her break one. They should be able to talk some sense into him, or at least stall him long enough for us to get there.¡±


    Propenna nodded in thanks. She was still uncomfortable with how disposable her grandchildren were to her daughter but the Children of Hamera were possibly the most effective magical special forces unit on the continent, and their usefulness made the moral concerns minor.


    That sounds like something that Farouk would say, a creeping thought whispered in the back of her mind. She shook her head to clear it. Propenna could not fail their empire or her Hektor, no matter what ridiculous stunt he was pulling at the moment. She couldn¡¯t let nagging thoughts get in the way, and it wasn¡¯t like she could even remember the names and faces of her grandchildren, let alone worry about them.


    ¡°Good,¡± she said. ¡°I trust they won¡¯t try anything stupid?¡±


    ¡°Mother, my children are anything but stupid.¡±


    Having seen their decision making skills first hand many times before Propenna doubted that statement, but she knew arguing that point would get her nowhere. So that was one problem dealt with. Hektor, for all of his virtues, was remarkably passive for a god. If all went according to plan, then he¡¯d be back by noon. That just left a thousand other things she had to deal with today. First of which was finding out exactly who had infiltrated their police forces.


    Propenna put the papers aside. ¡°Hamera, have you discovered who bought the officer off, and why someone would have wanted Ms. Thera dead?¡± Hamera¡¯s scowl deepened. ¡°I sent one of my sons to track him down, but it appears someone got to him first. The constable had been shot minutes after I left for the castle and fed to his bird. Same thing with the man who triggered the alarm after you had ordered the hunt for father to be kept as a discreet affair.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. A botched attempt to hide the bodies?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s far more likely to have been to destroy any evidence of alchemical or magical tampering with the traitors.¡±


    ¡°Shame. I hate it when they¡¯re competent.¡±


    ¡°Wait, WHAT?¡¯ said Thera, the mortal¡¯s fear and trepidation forgotten with her surprise. ¡°You¡¯re saying that there are spies in the police? Why are you so calm about this?¡± She looked up at Propenna who smirked, enjoying how quickly the mortal was coming to the realization. It wasn¡¯t often she met one this active. Thera¡¯s eyes widened and she nodded thoughtfully. ¡°You¡¯re calm because you planned this. The constabulary are bait. You¡¯ve made them purposefully easy to buy off so all of the corrupt officials, moles, and turncoats are in one place.¡± Propenna chuckled. She was good for a mortal. ¡°That was the idea at least when we instituted the program sixty years ago.¡±


    ¡°Wh-Why are you letting an ordinary person like me hear this? Aren¡¯t you afraid I¡¯ll tell someone?"


    ¡°Unfortunately, everyone who means anything knows about it at this point. The only people who try to interfere with our law enforcement now are idiots or people trying to send a message. I¡¯m afraid in this case it¡¯s probably the latter. And Ms. Thera, I¡¯m sorry to tell you this but you aren¡¯t ordinary anymore, and it is highly unlikely you will ever return to being so. You¡¯re part of whatever this is now, and you jumped over a building. That¡¯s generally not something normal people do, at least in my experience.¡±


    Thera¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°How did I even do that?¡± she asked Hamera. ¡°Did I even do that?¡± The goddesses expression soured even further and frustration leaked through her voice as she said, ¡°Strictly speaking, it shouldn¡¯t have been possible. The three schools of magic available for humans, Perception, Manifestation, and Manipulation don¡¯t allow for what you did. I highly doubt you could have seen hard enough to jump sixty feet in the air so Perception is out. Manipulation deals with transforming one material into another, like what I did with that officer¡¯s gun. That has absolutely nothing to do with flying so it won¡¯t work as an explanation. Manifestation mages can fly, but they do so by riding on the constructs of physical magic they can create. I think you would have noticed if you had summoned a magic disc to lift yourself over the building, so I guess the point is that I have no fucking clue what happened.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Watch your language in the castle Hamera. You know that your father doesn¡¯t like that sort of talk around our subjects. It reflects poorly upon us¡±


    ¡°Father threw himself out of a window in the middle of a council meeting. I think that¡¯s a little worse than my profanity.¡±


    ¡°Fair point. Still, you said three schools and while my knowledge pales in comparison to yours, isn¡¯t there a fourth?¡±


    ¡°Technically yes, there is Fundamental magic. It¡¯s less a school of magic and more a blanket name for the abilities of divine beings such as ourselves however, so I didn¡¯t consider if it bore any significance on the situation. But now that I think on it-¡± Hamera whipped around to face Thera. ¡°Girl. Do you think wielding the sword gave a measure of my father¡¯s power to you? When you jumped did you hear whispering around you? As if the wind was alive and talking? When you jumped, did it feel as if the wind carried you?¡±


    ¡°N-no, the sword talked but that¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°Shit. I thought I was onto something there.¡±


    Hamera began to pace, her expression growing more and more irritable. ¡°Wait. Girl, you said that Synefo talks. It talked to you?¡±


    ¡°Synefo?¡±


    ¡°The sword you simpleton. That¡¯s the swords name. Did it talk to you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Wait, hold on. It mentioned something about not thinking I could actually hear it, what does that mean?¡±


    ¡°It means that aside from the Emperor, not a single person in the past one thousand one hundred and fifty years of that sword¡¯s existence has been able to hear it speak,¡± Propenna said as her eyes widened with surprise. ¡°Including the royal family.¡±


    The room fell into silence as Hamera¡¯s expression changed from frustration and annoyance to the glee of a child who has discovered a new toy. ¡°What¡¯s the sword saying right now?¡± she asked, circling Thera. ¡°Nevermind. I¡¯ll remove the middleman.¡± She reached out and grabbed the sword¡¯s hilt, but with an explosive crack of electricity Hamera was thrown backwards across the room, her smoking hand filling the air with the charred scent of burning skin and ozone.


    Propenna stood in an instant, a thin black rapier materializing in her hand. She could feel divine energy course within her, slowing the world to a honeyed crawl as she crossed the room and held the blade of her rapier to Thera¡¯s throat in the time it took the mortal to blink. Thera stumbled backwards in shock but Propenna¡¯s arm lashed out and caught her by the shoulder. ¡°You dare?¡± she hissed, black steam leaking through her clenched teeth. ¡°Touch my daughter again and I will end you, no matter whose weapon you wield.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright mother,¡± laughed Hamera from across the room. ¡°She did nothing, I just got a bit big for my britches.¡± Propenna relaxed her sword arm and let Thera go, as Hamera pulled herself to her feet. Propenna could see her daughter¡¯s burned hand knit itself back together with a wash of purple light. ¡°I deserved that. Girl-I mean Ms. Thera please apologize to Synefo for me, I shouldn¡¯t have grabbed him without permission.¡± Thera nodded shakily. ¡°He says apology accepted. He also says-¡± Thera stopped and looked at the sword in horror. ¡°That? No. I¡¯m not saying it. I¡¯d like to keep on living thank you very much.¡± Propenna flicked her wrist and the rapier disappeared. ¡°Just spit it out¡±


    ¡°Well, he says that if Hamera was half as smart as she thought she was, she¡¯d have started testing instead of questioning, and that it¡¯s rather obvious. He says that I¡¯m the first human with fundamental magic since... Well, since your father.¡±


    The two goddesses stared at her in shocked silence, each trying to wrap their heads around the implications of that sentence, and to make matters worse a dragon chose that exact moment to enter the room. Lord Frederick Leistung Scarwing the third was an impertinent hatchling of an ambassador who delighted in bypassing her castle¡¯s security and bothering the royal family. Propenna was sure he had been sent abroad because no one at home wanted to deal with him. The little brat was wearing his human form, that of a tall and pale man in his early twenties with bright blonde hair in a garishly decorated black uniform.


    He grinned, displaying his razor sharp teeth. ¡°Your highness! Funny seeing you here, how¡¯s the husband? It¡¯s strange getting a window into your personal lives.¡± Propenna sighed. ¡°Frederick, do you have anything important to say or are you just here to stretch the limits of my hospitality?¡±


    ¡°You wound me Propenna,¡± he said in his lilting accent. ¡°I don¡¯t want you jumping to conclusions. I¡¯d hate to fall out of grace with the family.¡±


    ¡°Yes yes lizard, you are so very clever.¡±


    ¡°Your words not mine. What was it I came here to say again? Ah yes my big brother is dropping by tomorrow.¡±


    Propenna screamed internally. Just one more burning mess to top off this dumpster fire of a day she thought, forcing herself to remain composed. ¡°Hamera¡± she hissed through clenched teeth. ¡°Please take Ms. Majeed to the guest room down the hall, and make yourselves comfortable.¡±


    Hamera glared at her, but gave a curt nod and escorted the mortal from the room. Propenna loved her children and she hated patronizing them, but they often left her no choice. They had grown up in a world where nothing could hurt them which bred carelessness. No matter how much they resented her for it, they just couldn¡¯t be trusted with sensitive matters.


    Frederick¡¯s smile widened, growing too big to look natural on his almost human face. ¡°He wanted his arrival to be kept hush hush, but you know how I do enjoy the ruining of other¡¯s plans.¡±


    Frederick had many siblings, but only his eldest brother Sigismund mattered. He had been the Chancellor of the Draconic Union for over a hundred years, and in that time had nearly tripled its territorial gains through his brutish military acumen and cunning political maneuvering. Known for being the personal ward of King Aissirath and incinerating entire cities, Sigismund''s burning hatred for the Makedons was almost as legendary as his short temper. She knew that he could only be coming to kill her husband and subjugate her people, in that order. That itself wasn¡¯t really worrying, he¡¯d wanted to do that for centuries. The problem was Sigismund wouldn¡¯t have come if he wasn''t absolutely sure of his success. She hated him and everything he stood for, but the bastard was smart and infuriatingly cautious.


    He could have been a real threat if she hadn¡¯t been given advance warning. Now, she had a head start in the race to see who would outmaneuver each other first, but she was missing her staunchest ally. A creeping anxiety began to fill the hole where Hektorious once stood. She needed to bring him back and she needed it half an hour ago.


    ¡°Thank you Frederick¡± she said, with a genuine smile across her face as she realized what the young ambassador had done for her. She just hoped that he couldn¡¯t sense the nervousness that grew behind it. ¡°That was uncharacteristically helpful.¡± He bowed, his hair shining in the morning light filtering through her office¡¯s great glass windows. ¡°I live to serve, my lady. Now should I exit using the door? I¡¯d do that normally, but I¡¯ve heard self-defenestration has become all the rage with your family.¡± Her smile dropped. ¡°Get. Out.¡±


    Frederick scampered out of the room, sniggering to himself in the inhuman draconic tongue.


    Propenna turned from the door and paced, She didn¡¯t have time for flippant reptiles. She had an empire to preserve, a Chancellor to murder and a husband to rescue from himself, and nobody, not traitors, not a psychotic dragon, and not even Hektorious himself could stop her.

 Interlude 1

    It wasn¡¯t everyday a man prepared to fight his grandfather. Sure, his mother Hamera had told Cronus that violence was out of the question, and she had specifically said that they were just being sent to talk him down, but he knew better. Hektorious was a senile old coot, unfit to be allowed outside, let alone rule the empire. ¡°Now make no mistake,¡± he would often repeat to his squires and servants when they were alone. ¡°The old man is a legend, easily the greatest ruler in history. But he¡¯s old. His time is over. He hasn¡¯t even picked up his sword for a hundred years! We need new blood, somebody younger and bolder. The Farantine empire could conquer the world if he wasn¡¯t so drunk on his peace. It¡¯s about time for his retirement don¡¯t you think?¡±


    His mother had never wanted to rule, his aunts and uncles were all varying levels of insane, and his siblings were egotistical maniacs. His cousins were weak and lacked the ambition to rule. His grandmother was competent he¡¯d admit, but she was too cautious and concerned with the mortal cattle to be truly effective. As a humble demigod Cronus hated to admit his superiority, but he was by far the best man for the throne.


    He just needed to claim it.


    His squad rode hard and fast down the twisting alleyways on their warbirds, the dark gray velociraptor-like hawks chewing away at their steel bits as they careened across the city. Most warbirds were brown and not nearly as large, but members of the royal family had access to Gray Reapers, a rare and extremely expensive alchemically enhanced subspecies reserved for only those with divine blood. Cronus dug his spurs into his mount¡¯s gray hide, ignoring its pained screeching as he demanded it go faster. He needed to catch Hektorious, and he wasn¡¯t going to let the laziness of a stupid bird ruin it for him.


    Mortals scattered like startled mice as they rode through bustling streets and crowded bazaars before they skidded to a stop at the fence that stood on the disc¡¯s edge. The capital was built along the sides of the Divine Mountain like a gargantuan wedding cake, each district built on one hundred monolithic sandstone discs built by thousands of manipulation mages led by Hamera herself in a massive effort that took nearly a hundred years. Each ring stretched a miles from the mountain¡¯s slope and stood a hundred feet above the one below.


    The official reason on why the city was built in such an impractical way was that Hamera made it as a gift to the mortals. It was said she built it to allow them live closer to their gods, but Cronus had it on good authority that Hamera actually built it to spite her brother Aschelon after he claimed it¡¯d be impossible.


    The discs were connected by thousands of alchemically powered lifts built into alcoves carved in the sandstone cliff faces of the rings which transported pedestrians, livestock, cargo, and vehicles on massive platforms which travelled up and down the levels. Airships were available for wealthy citizens who disliked waiting for the ponderous lifts, and a few madly eccentric nobles had bred a new strain of Warbirds known as White Wraiths that were capable of flying passengers between the rings. A few careened above him now, weaving between ponderous airships that cluttered the skies and screeching like madmen rolling down a hill. Cronus needed no such pedestrian means of transportation. He twirled his hands together, calling on the invisible sea of arcane energy that flowed through the world and summoned a vast square of crimson magic beneath them that lifted off into the air. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The throngs of civilians surrounding it stopped still, in awe of the display before them. A few knelt to pray, and Cronus had to force himself away from wallowing in their adoration. He didn¡¯t become who he was today by allowing distractions from such trivial things.


    Still, he took a moment to bask as the twins Juno and Juna rode up beside him. Older than him by a century, they had remained the lowest ranked members of his family for decades. They seldom spoke and preferred to take orders rather than give them, which made the twins Cronus¡¯s favorite half-siblings. Juno held the receiver of his portable radio to his ear, nodding at frequent intervals while Juna scanned the horizon. ¡°Sister,¡± he said, turning to Juna. ¡°Do you see where he¡¯s headed?¡± She nodded, and pointed in the direction of the city¡¯s South Gate. While both of the twins were exceptionally skilled with Manipulation, Juna dabbled in Perception as well. The use of Perception magic allowed the user to enhance their senses and see the light that radiated from concentrations of intense magical energy, making Juno a deadly marksman and useful asset on a manhunt for a god, since there wasn¡¯t a concentration of magic larger than Hektorious. He¡¯d heard that the brilliance he gave off was so intense that some Perception Mages could go temporarily blind from close proximity to him. ¡°Juno, do the spotters say the same?¡± he asked, knowing that Juno was being fed information live from Hamera¡¯s Surveillance Cabal. Juno grunted his affirmation and Cronus smirked. He was unnerved by how easily he and his grandfather could be tracked, but without their intelligence it¡¯d be nigh impossible to find Hektorious within the stacked city. With them however, he was as easy to find as a starving warbird let loose in a nursery.


    Much to Cronus¡¯s chagrin, his musing was interrupted by the least welcome member of his search party as she cleared her throat from behind him. It was that blonde whore of a mortal that his mother had crowned colonel in what must have been a fit of madness. Laskari, the Emerald Storm. He nearly gagged just thinking of that ridiculous name. Ephemeral humans didn¡¯t deserve epitaphs, nor commissions from his mother. Yes, he supposed the mortal had some skill with the arcane, but nothing compared to his own power. To be viewed as her peer was nothing less than the highest of insults. If he had his way, the woman would have never been allowed near his search party, but his mother had insisted and so he was forced to tolerate the bitch. ¡°Yes colonel?¡± he replied without looking back. As a corporal, Colonel Laskari technically outranked him by a vast majority, but the Taliesin-Mercer act of 1786 had placed those with more than fifty percent divine blood in a completely separate chain of command. The godblooded still had to advance in the ranks normally, but no true semidivine would ever be subject to the whims of mortals, which was just as it should be. He had heard Hektorious had been against the bill, which was even further proof of his grandfather''s senility.


    The mortal rode beside him on her own smaller and brown warbird as Juno stepped aside. She held a map of the city in her gauntleted hands, a path outlined in red ink. ¡°I¡¯ve mapped a path out for us to intercept him. I recommend I approach him first, since I have a pre-existing rapport with the Emperor and he trusts me. You three can handle crowd control easily enough and prepare discrete transport.¡± Cronus looked at her expectantly, and the colonel stared back without even attempting to hide the venom in her eyes. ¡°Sir.¡±


    ¡°Thank you colonel, and I appreciate your suggestion. It was a terrible and borderline blasphemous suggestion, but I appreciate it nonetheless.¡±


    ¡°Bu-¡°


    ¡°No buts. He¡¯s my grandfather and he¡¯ll respond better to me than some petty military officer.¡±


    ¡°When was the last time you two spoke?¡±


    ¡°Eight years ago if I recall correctly. Now if you would be so kind to shut your mouth before your yammering drives me to self lobotomize, we can be on our way.¡±


    The Colonel¡¯s plan wasn''t half bad, if he wanted his grandfather pacified. He needed Hektorious angry, and only he could ensure that the old fool was properly goaded into a fight. A fight that Cronus could and would win. Once he had defeated his grandfather and proved his superiority, his family would have no choice but to submit and crown him Emperor.


    He waved down to the cheering mortals below and with a slight lowering motion from his hand, his red square began to descend off the edge of the disk, and towards his throne.