Authors: Nathan Wilson
Tags: #adventure, #mystery, #god, #sexuality, #fantasy, #epic fantasy, #fantasy action
The Undying God
The Undying God
Nathan Wilson
The Undying God
is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of
the author’s imagination and or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead,
is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2012 Nathan Wilson
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition License
Notes:
Thank you for downloading this free
ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted
property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and
distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you
enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their
own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other
works by this author. Thank you for your support.
Cover art: Photography by Vanessa
Barklay, Nuno Silva, Isabella Buchinger, Lisa Krombholz, Julia
Ivanova, and Ivanov Alexey.
Discover other titles by Nathan Wilson
at Smashwords.com:
Table
of Contents
Part I:
Misanthrophilia
Chapter 1
Margzor gazed at the city of Sepulzer
from a forest veiled in twilight. Shadows contoured to the glen
with cryptic grace, embracing the world in a spell of lush
darkness.
Time seemed to hang in limbo, caught
somewhere between the present and the future. Not even the man
standing beneath the trees moved, whose figure seemed little more
than an extension of the wilderness. His green eyes roamed across
the city with intrigue, and his lips curled in a daunting
grimace.
Ebony armor seamlessly conformed to his
body, camouflaging all but his face and hands. Tusks protruded from
his steel-clad shoulders, the latter of which suspended a chain
that so immaculately slithered across his chest. The exquisite
detail tantalized the eye, an impenetrable shell of defenses that
wouldn’t let anyone in.
Margzor glided past the trees and his
hollow gaze riveted on the city below. His every movement was
attuned to an environment that had become an integral part of his
existence.
It was impossible to say how many years
he endured in the wilds. In fact, decades had been snuffed out
since he last approached society. He may as well have been looking
upon an alien world. He glanced across extravagant palaces that
dwarfed humble dwellings belonging to common folk. They slept
peacefully within the city, isolated from the world
outside.
The silhouette of the city entranced
his imagination. He wondered if such beauty concealed a much darker
world inside, its raw, hideous nature only exposed when intimately
approached.
He had been watching the city for many
nights and days, studying its intricate layout. The region was
impressive, an aesthetic gem in this abyss of a planet.
However, he sought one building in
particular, slumbering in the depths of society. He came to a stop
at the edge of a jutting cliff just beyond the forest. At this
elevation, the view was overwhelming. It could inspire many things
in his heart; fear, astonishment, or peace. He felt none of these
emotions as he continued in search of his destination.
Night stretched across the city,
blackening the world before his eyes.
At last, he spied the temple, just as
the presence within him indicated. He lingered there as the minutes
slipped by, each second only strengthening his resolve. He was
committed to the path he had chosen, an opportunity that would
change not only his life but countless others. Hundreds, possibly
thousands of people would feel the aftermath of his future
actions.
The days ahead would be the most
arduous of his life, of that he was certain. He would almost
inevitably die.
That notion did little to dissuade him.
His martyrdom was inconsequential compared to the end results. He
would gladly die a thousand times to achieve his desired outcome.
Reality could not continue to progress this way; he had to stop it.
He had to be the change he wanted to see.
Irreversible change.
Margzor turned away and vanished from
the cliff, sinking back into the shadows.
* * *
A single jasmine flower fell from
Nishka’s hand. Its petals took wing on the breeze and scattered
upon the burial site.
Sunlight purged the last traces of
winter hibernating in the wilderness, beckoning spring to reveal
her majesty. The trees had already stretched in every direction,
eager to embrace their renewal. Although she was surrounded by
newfound life, Nishka couldn’t open her eyes wide enough to look
beyond the death of one woman.
Nishka closed her eyes, listening to
someone’s voice that remained vivid in her memory despite years of
absence. A warm nostalgia replaced the sorrow in her chest. She
remembered a day when sadness did not bite her heart, when life was
without pain.
Nishka wished to stay for a minute more
as she reflected on the happy memories, but another loved one would
be waiting for her at home. With that hopeful thought now kindling
in her heart, she turned to leave.
However, another set of eyes observed
Nishka as she departed from the glen. After a pause, he ventured
toward the grave. He stooped low and picked up one of the jasmine
petals, turning it over between his pale fingers. It was still warm
from her touch, as though imbued with her very essence. The
sunlight danced impishly in his flaming eyes. She would never even
suspect he was stalking her.
Nishka poked her head out of the forest
and a sigh unfurled from her chest. A familiar house awaited her at
the outskirts of the village of Riverwell. Those walls represented
her spiritual oasis, a place she could always feel secure, no
matter how drastically the world changed around her.
She nudged open the door. Inside she
saw her father washing the ash from his face, having finished
forging for the day. He had been a blacksmith for as long as she
could remember, forging steel with meticulous attention to
detail.
Matthias’ haggard face lit up with a
smile when he saw his daughter. Nishka resembled her mother in
every way, from the chime of her laughter to her mischievous
smile.
Her dark eyebrows arched above
exquisite, blue eyes, two facets of color that resembled marvelous
sapphires. The sun highlighted her skin with majestic perfection.
She nearly emanated with magnificence in the warmth of
day.
Nishka pulled the door shut behind her
and swooped into her father’s hug.
“Oh my gods, you need a bath,” she
joked. When Nishka wiggled out of his hug, she had ashes smudged
across her cheek. “What?” she demanded when Matthias burst out
laughing.
“You walk outside like that and you’ll
scare away the boys!”
“Oh yeah, what boy ever heard of a
woman working a forge?” She wiped the ashes on her sleeve. “And
what do you think? Should I devote my life to cooking and
sewing?”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t have a death wish, do you?”
Matthias laughed as Nishka playfully threw a wet cloth at
him.
“Caravans will be passing through
Riverwell soon,” he announced. “The spring market is just around
the corner.” Nishka didn’t realize how soon the day had
arrived.
Once each year, her father left the
village and marketed his goods in the six city-states that formed
Eyegad. It seemed like only yesterday the snow had fallen, yet
spring was already bringing new life and change. The sun had
returned to cast its glow upon the forests and melt the frost.
Slowly, the cold days had been replaced by clear skies, and more
travelers were churning up dust on the road.
“When are you leaving?”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it
this year.” He picked up a hammer abandoned on the table and
studied it with nostalgia. “I am too weary to travel, nor do I have
the patience to barter with fools,” he said, and his lips curled in
a wry smile.
“What are you talking
about?”
Matthias took a deep breath.
“I need you to act on my behalf.” No
sooner had the words left his lips, Nishka loudly
protested.
“Father, I need to stay here and look
after you!” He smiled, expecting this reaction. Not only had she
inherited her mother’s beauty, she inherited her stubborn
will.
“How do you suppose I will be
hurt?”
“While smithing.”
“You insult me, I’m a far better smith
than that!” he said, feigning injury. “It’s been nearly thirty-two
years since I first picked up the hammer and toiled at the
forge.”
“You aren’t as young as you used to
be—”
“Which is why I need you to travel in
my stead.” Nishka tried to utter a reply, but it was defeated by
her father’s logic. She cursed herself for stumbling into his
trap.
“How will you look after me when you
are hungry? If I become ill, how will you nurse me back to health
when you can’t afford medicine?” Nishka sighed and accepted the
crux of his argument. “I found someone wandering the roads who can
escort you.”
“You mean a bodyguard?” she
asked.
He looked at his only daughter with
unease.
“Nothing is going to happen to
you.”
“Then why are you hiring this man to
protect me?”
“In the unlikely chance that something
does
happen!” The anger melted from his face and he looked
away in shame. Nishka had not heard him speak like that in many
years. He looked apologetically at her but she could tell something
else weighed on his heart.
“
You must understand me…
Bandits and thieves are notorious at this time of year. I cannot
allow you to travel alone.”
Nishka gazed out the window, glaring at
the dirt road that led far away from home. She loathed the notion
of separating from her father. Of course she wanted to see the
world outside of Riverwell, but at the same time, the prospect
intimidated her.