Wrath of Kerberos (16 page)

Their integration into society was seamless. However, in one area this new race was very different to their creators; they were godless. They soon came to reason that as they themselves had not been created by a deity, then what use was there for such a thing? They observed none of the rituals and ceremonies of the faithful, although, for a time, they tolerated the religion of their masters. But unlike the minds that had created them, they were evolving. Soon their intellects were beyond those of their creators, and the servants quickly became the masters. So dependent on their artificial people had my children become that they did not realise that they had been usurped, happy, as they were, for their every need to be administered to, all the while sinking into comfortable complacency. The artificial race came to control every aspect of their lives.

Then came the first blasphemous act of this new race. Religion was banned and the churches and cathedrals – any place of worship, no matter how small – were shut down. Such beliefs were backward, the artificial race argued, and did nothing to advance the cause of humankind; spirituality was the reserve of the superstitious and the frightened. That these beliefs be entirely eradicated over time, a programme of enforced sterilisation of those who stubbornly held to their faith was put into practice. This, finally, shook my people out of their slumber, though not before the majority of them had succumbed to this tyranny. Those who had avoided the needles of the doctors took up arms, only to be brutally put down. They knew nothing of war, but their creations learned the art quickly. Once the populace had been subdued, seeing that their actions would not be universally embraced, the artificial race decided to drop the facade of progressive rationality entirely.

I had given my people free will. I had decided not to interfere in the world that I had created, and which they had shaped. I had tried a rule of absolute power before, on other worlds, and it had led to a people who only praised me because they were afraid. But when the artificial race triggered a terrible weapon, destroying an area much larger even than the peninsula you call home, Silus, the wrath of old returned.

Silus was hanging above the planet once more and he shuddered in horror as flames took a whole continent in their grip and turned it into wasteland in less than the blink of an eye.

I was too late to intervene. My people were eradicated. My beautiful world, which had been created and populated entirely by my will, was ruined, now ruled over by an alien race that paid me no heed. Only when I rained down fire, unleashing a destructive force more powerful than their own, only then did they truly hear me, and for a moment some of them actually
believed
.

In my rage, however, I had missed something
.

Silus’s perspective shifted again, pulling him away from the inferno raging below, the continents sinking into seas of lava before being obscured entirely by globe-spanning clouds of smoke. Now he was staring past the burning world into space, and for a moment he didn’t realise what it was that he was supposed to be seeing. But then Silus saw it – a brilliant streak of light burning into the heavens, rising from the planet below like a meteor in reverse.

That was a ship carrying Illiun’s ancestors, the last remnants of the artificial race. When my destruction of the planet began, some of the usurpers acted quickly, throwing themselves into the void to escape my wrath. And for millennia they have evaded me, using their technology and their growing knowledge of the void to seek out the places where time and reality are at their weakest, punching holes through space and putting whole universes between us.

But now their means of escape lies in ruins, and it will be you, Silus, who will now be the agent of my judgement.

S
ILUS AND HIS
companions had grown close to Illiun and his people during the time they had spent together. Katya had helped Rosalind and Shalim look after Hannah, and Zac had become firm friends with the small girl, integrating with the family just as if they’d been neighbours back in Nürn. Not once had these people threatened them. Granted, the silver-eyed men had attacked Kelos and Shalim, but that had been nobody’s fault but the savage world on which they found themselves. In fact, the people of the settlement simply did not have a violent bone in their body, as evidenced by their inability to defend themselves against the Order of the Swords of Dawn. Yet Kerberos was now telling him that they were of a people that had been responsible for the death of an entire race, killing them merely because their philosophy differed from their own. Was it right to finish what Kerberos had started, and kill the few surviving remnants of that ancient civilisation? Silus couldn’t believe that they posed a threat to anybody in their present state.

He could feel the god’s displeasure at this thought even before it spoke. The clouds that enfolded him darkened again and, for a moment, Silus got the sensation that he was being drawn deeper into Kerberos. He fought against the pull, fearful that the deity’s displeasure would mean his dissolution.

Illiun and his people are not just a threat to yourselves, but the whole of Twilight. This dead world that you have come to will one day be your home. You are on Twilight, Silus, but far in your past.

Silus’s mind reeled. The idea was almost beyond belief. Where was the vast ocean that he knew so well? Would this dead place one day be far beneath the waves?

The sorcery that saw the wrecking of the
Llothriall
clashed with the energies unleashed by Illiun’s ship when it punched its way into this realm, pulling you and your companions back through time to a Twilight not yet begun. If Illiun and his people are allowed to remain here, to breed and grow on this young world, then the life you know, the people you love, will never have been. Katya and Zac will blink out of existence. Everything will unravel into oblivion. There will never have been a Twilight as you know it. These people are not a part of my plan for your world, Silus, and, really, what are the lives of this few, compared with the countless millions? Would you let this handful of usurpers live, at the expense of your own race?
They are not human. Remember what I have shown you.

I am sending a creature to this world, one which can remove the usurpers from existence, just as their existence threatens your own. Seek this being out, bring Illiun and his people to justice for what they have done. If you fail, you and all those you love will be consigned to oblivion.

“But why me?” Silus said. “Why can’t you eradicate them yourself, or use the Swords to enact your wrath?”

Because they trust you. I would rather they walk to their deaths voluntarily, unknowing, than fight against me again. They have escaped me far too many times for me to take that risk. This is where it must end, Silus. You must be the agent of my wrath.

Silus was blinded by a flash of light as a storm raged in the heart of his god. A wave of nausea washed over him and he realised that he was back in his body, his heavy flesh anchoring him to the floor. He could hear Bestion crawling around him, still chanting the words that had sent him into the presence of Kerberos. He tried to call the priest’s name, but his throat was too dry and he couldn’t make his lips work. Silus reached out and grabbed Bestion’s arm as he shuffled past, and the priest looked up with a startled expression, before realising that Silus had returned. Bestion brought him water then, and helped him to sit upright. The priest looked as ravaged as Silus felt, his robes soaked with sweat and his face pale.

“Has the Allfather spoken?” he asked, the desperation for any news of his god writ large on his face. “Will He lead us to safety?”

There was a knock on the door then and Katya stepped into the room, holding Zac; Silus noticed that his son had been crying.

“I’m sorry,” Katya said. “You were such a long time and we were getting worried. Is everything okay?”

“Well, Silus?” Bestion said, ignoring the interruption.

Silus looked at his wife and child and realised then what truly mattered; the only thing that mattered.

“Kerberos has spoken,” he said. “Help me to my feet so that I can tell everybody the good news.”

P
ART
T
WO

A
RRIVALS AND
D
EPARTURES

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

S
CAROTH WASN’T SURE
which of his wives he was eating. It definitely wasn’t First Wife, as she was tucking into the carcass herself, glowering at him over the fire as she fed. Maybe it was Seventh Wife. He hadn’t seen her in a few days, although the last time he had she was being more than a little friendly with one of his shamans, so it was entirely possible she was now ensconced in his tent, doing the deed. That was the problem with having over forty wives; it was so hard to keep track of them. Scaroth didn’t feel much guilt, then, when he had to slaughter one to feed his tribe. Food was scarce and times were hard. The only thing left to hunt was a species of toad, and even then you had to boil it for hours to neutralise the poison in its flesh. He had considered moving the tribe on, seeking more fertile land, but he knew from experience that this would be pointless. Everything in this world was dust and rocks. He’d once asked his shamans why their god would treat them this way, but amongst the knuckle bones and entrails they’d found no answers. Many generations had passed since their god had shown his face, and all their prayers and sacrifices hadn’t brought him back.

Scaroth was sucking the flesh from a thigh bone (as leader of the tribe, the best cut of meat was, of course, his to claim) when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wrenk, jumping up and down on his perch at the edge of the camp, waving his arms about his head.

Scaroth put down his meal and stood, looking towards the guard.

“Something’s coming!” came the faint shout. “Something is coming!”

Scaroth looked to the others, but they were too intent on their food to pay much heed to Wrenk, though when the first rays of azure light washed across the foothills, some of them did look up.

“What is it, Wrenk?” Scaroth called.

“Something’s coming!”

Wrenk tumbled off his perch and ran down the slope towards them, still waving his arms above his head. There was no doubt about it, Scaroth thought, the boy was touched. But then, in his infancy, his son had been almost killed by Tenth Wife fighting with Eleventh Wife, claiming that the child was hers. Scaroth remembered well the horrible sound baby Wrenk’s head had made when he’d been dropped on it.