Asheron's Fall: The Power of Ten, Book Six

“I am accepting the reality of the situation, and I understand the pragmatic view of it,” I countered calmly. “Some people get by on blind faith. I get by on informed faith. I’m much too smart to just follow spewed words and give my soul to them.

“So, I don’t just have faith, Master Mick. I know. I did all the homework. I followed the trails of Faith. I looked at the relationships of the Divine and mortals. There are Alignments, there are the gods who exemplify them, and we choose to stand where we stand, usually by following those gods. Nobody is forced to do so by life, much as some of those gods might wish otherwise, but it is largely to our benefit to stand with those who think like us, no?”

“Cannae argue that, but those who claim to follow gods can be a mite touchy about leaving or not serving their lord...” he said wryly.

“Well, back on Ispar, they aren’t following gods, they are following a creed. Losing you means losing your support, your money, your influence, your goodwill, face, community impression, and a bunch of other things. They might or might not actually be concerned with the fate of your immortal soul in between all the pragmatic concerns.

“True Churches? They are aware of the necessity of the pragmatic side of things, but your immortal soul is the goal. They want to be standing with you in the afterlife, knowing you made the same choices as them, until eternity grinds you down and the wheel turns again. Gods don’t care about your lands, wealth, birth, or other material things, unless it is specifically a part of their creed to do so. They care about your faith and your immortal soul.

“So, the task for us mortals is to realize where we stand, find the gods who believe as we believe, and stand with them. There is no one god fits all, despite what a whole lot of their servants might want you to believe.

“In your case, you probably want to find a martial god who endorses the individual and independent spirit. If your life had not taken this turn, you might have gone more to the Gold, focusing on family and friends and the father figures among the gods, passing on what the next generation needs to survive.”

“Recruiting for the temples now, are ye?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Valus, the Champion of Heaven, has no temples,” I replied to that, making him blink. “He is a free spirit who wanders the Heavens, hunting for trouble, finding it, and dealing with it. He is great friends with the other gods of Heaven, but he takes no orders, only requests and tales exchanged, as he roams Creation looking for things nobody wants to consider, and cuts them down with Thunder and the lightning of Heavenly Wrath. He is the Knight Errant of Thunder, the Axe of Storms, the Hunter of Monsters, the Lance of Lightning, Courage Incarnate, the Wrath of the Righteous, and barbarians and knights, rangers and hunters, mercenaries and duelists all have His name on their lips.

“His duty is His own, but He cleaves to it despite anything others might say. He is there when he is needed, and He is off doing His own thing when He is not, doing what is Good and Right despite what all might say.”

The Mick pursed his lips as I finished, looking me up and down. “Ye sure ye don’t worship Him?” he asked carefully. “Because I like the bastard already.”

I smiled slightly. “There are some Stormblooded Casters who follow Valus, but His is a martial faith, and he makes no bones about it. A Weapon raised in defiance of Evil, a heart beating with the courage to stand against death, and a will to die in defense of your beliefs; those are the most sacred things of Valus.

“He has no temples, because His servants proper wander as He does, and the churches of other Faiths open to shelter them when they come calling. Then they often get drunk together, and they speak of things bright and cheery… and dark and somber.” I looked away. “And then, like as not, they are gone the next day, and something terrifically violent and often terminal has happened to those that thought they were above retribution, that the law protected them, that none dared touch them, and they found out Valus and His people just don’t give a shit about any of that.”

I reached out, filled a cup with the magical wine, and offered it to him. He took it with aplomb, and carefully clinked my cup to his after I filled my own.

“Valus naturally makes many enemies doing what he does, and so do the best of His people. They also have many, many friends, although often the friends are at the low end of the scale, and the enemies, they are at the top.”

The Mick exhaled long and low. “And He does nae care.”

“The threats of conquerors and despoilers mean less to Him than tracking down a lost puppy, or putting the latest spawn of the Mother of the Monsters to the lance. If they want to send assassins after Him, well, He enjoys the change of pace and entertainment. Many of the monsters He hunts don’t look like monsters, after all.

“Among Independents, explorers, and adventurers, He is VERY popular. He’s a romantic fool, a hunter, a warden, an adventurer, the big strong guy who puts down the bad guys, and He gets lots of good press. Not from the other side of the aisle, however.

“Likewise, those who think to abuse His reputation and name tend to pay a grim and terrible price. He’s not much into games of falsehood, and it’s totally possible that if you seek to exploit His name to take advantage of the innocent that a bolt from the blue is going to come down and reduce you to bloodspray for your effrontery.”

The Mick snorted, lifting his eyebrows, but my dead serious expression didn’t leave him much room to contest me. “Aye, I could see how rogues would try to take advantage of that freebooting nature to harvest some extras off of it… or create trouble an’ ‘solve’ it, belike, ambling along afore it were discovered ta be a con.”

I just nodded. “Valus is a Good god, one of the strong pillars of Heaven, for all His wandering nature. Living up to the ideal of a god who keeps His heart light despite all the Evils He sees... is hard for mortals. There aren’t many old faithful of Valus, as in later years they tend to settle down and their beliefs turn from the Rainbow towards the Gold if they raise a family. But Valus is a fine mentor of the next generation, too, although not much of a father figure. More a big brother type.”

“Where’d ye learn of Him, then?” the Mick asked curiously. “Ye’ve a lot of lore on ye not of Ispar, as far as I be telling...”

I pointed at the Princess, working away while Investing merrily. “A new Tradition has made it to Ispar while you’ve been gone, and Kris’ mother and father have been dispersing and teaching it to the population, instead of holding it tightfisted to themselves and the like. What I know is an extension of that Tradition. The Princess could be talking to you about Valus cheerfully, too, as her father’s a big adherent of the martial gods, and her mother, well, she takes being a hunter of monsters very seriously, even if she leans more towards the skill than strength side of the equation.”

“Your own choice to follow, then?”

I held up two fingers. “I identify most with two gods. One is Sylune the Silver Queen, Queen of the Heavens, the Moon, and the Stars, the Patron of Silver Magic, and basically the ideal for any spellcaster of Good heart to follow. The other is Mithar the Silver Son, Heaven’s General and Strategist, the Grandmaster of Heaven and Mithral Mentor, Patron of true Paladins, and all-around clever scheming noble knightly wise elder Damn Good badarse of the Heavens.” I wiggled my fingers. “Sylune stands at the side of Aru in Heaven, as Gold as He, but identifies with the night sky, infinite possibilities, travel, and magic. Mithar is the apex of Silver, the ever-scheming Grandmaster who plays the game on behalf of Heaven like none other, considered the greatest swordsman, strategist, and tactician among the gods.

“My tools might be magic, but I really like the way Mithar works, and being a battlemage is a perfectly acceptable road to walk under Mithar. Just, uh, be prepared to get put into a lot of crazy situations that are really going to test your brains.” I slowly made a circling gesture around me.

“Ye’re not serious!” He blinked, and leaned in to look at me. “Ye are!...” he trailed off, much to his disbelief. “Ye think yer god shoved ye onto this bolloxed-up shitshow of an island? And ye’re not cursing His name right an’ left?!”

That made me smile, and then laugh ruefully. “Well, that’s the way it is with the Silver Son, and if you don’t know that going in, you’re a bit daft. If you’re Good and you believe in Him, then He’s going to make use of you, and put you in situations where you’ll be able to do a great deal of Good. The more capable you are, the more likely He is to do so, and the more fucked-up the situation is likely to be.”

He started to say something, paused, and then looked back and forth between the princess and me. He spent a good long minute thinking over what he was going to say.

“She’s a servant of this Mithar too, I take it...” He had the horrible realization that this shitshow might be worse than he thought, if we were as capable and talented as we seemed...

“Mithar is The Grandmaster of the Sword, the most skilled warrior in Heaven, if not the strongest, as that title goes to Valus. Every swordsman is going to venerate Mithar, and the Ranthas are all Natural Swordswomen. They are born to the sword, and so they all venerate Mithar for the Talent they have.”

“And ye think He arranged for both of ye to be here.”

I could only nod. “I do, indeed.”

“And you think He thinks the two of ye can take care of the wee little problems we be having hereabouts.” Perfectly dry delivery.

“He’s generally got a pretty good idea of the potential and ability of His servants, yes.”

“Are ye as deadly natural to magic as she is with a blade?” was his next careful inquiry.

That was an interesting comparison. I thought about it, and then shook my head slowly. “No. But then, I don’t need to be. The martial path is extremely demanding of the body and somewhat demanding of the mind. The magical path is extremely demanding of the mind and barely demanding of the body.

“The Ranthas are made to fight, and make no bones about it. When she’s all grown up, the Princess is going to be one of the most lethally dangerous warriors that can possibly exist. She’s a total natural at the path and will take it roaring all the way to the end, then build a new road and keep right on going.” He smirked at the image, glancing at her in appreciation.

“The path of magic I’m on? It’s powerful all on its own. Anyone who is smart and driven can take it to great heights of power. I am smart and driven, and so it follows. I just live on the path, and you’re only able to sniff around the edges right now, as it were.”

“Huh.” He looked somewhat skeptical.

“It’s something similar to what you were talking about with War Mages, and how so many of your associates turned to that path. The path itself was broad and strong, and you didn’t have to be super talented to follow it. The path did most of the work.

“Being a great swordsman, however, that took a bit more personal work, didn’t it?”

He considered that quietly again. “Aye,” he finally admitted after a moment. “The mages were… cocky, ye’d have to say. If they could get past the magic defense of an enemy, they had little fear of them. They had armor an’ defenses enough to live through attacks, an’ they had the battle power to bring down most anything. It were… very hard to compete with them. Ye had to act smarter an’ savvier, take advantage of all opportunities, an’ ye had to have the right Gear… so much damn Gear.” He laughed again at the thought of it. “And know so much magic yerself, if ye wanted to do the job right.”