God Conqueror 3 Read online

  When we got within view of the temple, I stopped my companions and hung back with them about a quarter of a mile away in a position that was decently concealed by trees while I sent out my fourth self to go investigate on foot.

  The situation was both better and worse than I had hoped.

  The temple of Tarlinis was a lot better fortified than I had imagined. Based on my impression of the god himself, I had been subconsciously expecting it to be a frail and wispy building. But it was built of some kind of seamless, solid gray stone and it was actually positioned right in the middle of the river with a twenty-foot-long drawbridge from the entrance to the shore which was, of course, currently withdrawn. Because it was designed to be inaccessible from either shore of the river, the temple was composed of an extremely narrow and extremely tall towers, probably about sixty feet in height. It was a great vantage point for archers, although I didn’t know whether any of the Tarlinians were archers, or any form of combatants at all. I couldn’t really picture a warrior people choosing to follow a god like Tarlinis, though, invisible powers or not.

  The bad news was that there were more Thorvinians than I had expected. A lot more. There had only been about thirty defending the outpost where they were harvesting nerisbane, which Lizzy and two of my selves had been able to handle. But on the same side of the river shore that we were on, the side that the temple drawbridge led to, there were rows upon rows of tents parked and mutant fighters crouched around fires, cleaning weapons, eating, sparring, taking shits. I estimated that there were all in all roughly six hundred of them. I could have been off by a hundred in either direction, but it didn’t really matter, because either way, there were far too many of them for only four of me to fight, even with the she-wolf’s and the warrior centaur’s help.

  “Now you understand why there’s nothing I can do?” a voice whispered inches from my ear.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Damn it Tarlinis,” I whispered back. “Don’t do that to people.”

  “I wish they’d chosen someone else’s temple to pick on,” he said sadly. “I liked mine. And the people in it.”

  “The temple’s still standing, and the people inside are still alive, aren’t they?” I responded. “So it’s not too late. What’s the temple made of, anyway? I’ve never seen a material like that. It looks like stone, but there aren’t any seams.”

  “I don’t know exactly, but it is some kind of stone,” Tarlinis said. “The temple was built by some ancient civilization long before my order got here. They just took over the castle and renovated it. But the stone is waterproof. It can be completely submerged without flooding.”

  “That must be some pretty advanced construction technology,” I said. “Too bad the knowledge has been lost. Does the river flood its banks often when the winter snows melt? Is that why the castle was designed that way?”

  “No,” Tarlinis said. “It was designed that way because the people who built it also installed a retractable dam upriver, so they could flood the whole area any time they wanted and wash away their enemies while everyone in the castle remained unharmed.”

  “…Why the hell didn’t you say so before?” I sighed.

  “Because the dam was built centuries ago and now it doesn’t work anymore,” Tarlinis said. “Well, no, I mean, it does work, but it’s not retractable anymore. There’s no way to activate the flood anymore.”

  “Hmmm,” I said. “I bet we could still find a way. Let’s go check out this dam then. Can you show me where it is?”

  “Yes,” Tarlinis said, “as long as we give the Thorvinian encampment a really wide berth.”

  “You’re invisible, what do you care anyway?” I asked.

  “I’m not invulnerable just because they can’t see me,” he said. “I can still die. Even though I can make myself insubstantial enough to penetrate other substances, substances like weapons can still penetrate me and damage my organs.”

  “Well, if you’re invisible, then all you have to do is keep your mouth shut around enemies and they’d never know you were there, just like my friends and I didn’t know you were there,” I sighed.

  “I could even get hit by a stray arrow accidentally--” Tarlinis began.

  “Never mind,” I said. “We’ll give the encampment a really wide berth, as wide as you want. But you’ll have to show me the way to this dam if you want to help your followers, and I can’t follow you if I can’t see you. You don’t have to make yourself completely visible to me, but maybe you could carry a branch or something?”

  “How about a leaf?” Tarlinis suggested. “Less conspicuous that way.”

  “A leaf, whatever,” I agreed.

  An exceptionally small and crumpled brown maple leaf floated off the ground in front of me and hovered about three feet up.

  “Got it,” I said.

  Then I was off and chasing the maple leaf at a dead sprint as it zoomed off. I had no idea what Tarlinis was shaped like, but he sure could run, or fly, or levitate, or whatever he was doing. The maple leaf steered well clear of the Thorvinian encampment and then finally circled back around to the river. At a point that I estimated was about a mile up from the temple, we arrived at the ancient dam.

  The thing was massive, far more massive than I had anticipated, about two hundred feet tall. It spread outward in either direction until the hills rose to meet it. It wasn’t built of earth, it was built of the same kind of unfamiliar stone as the temple, and it had a channel carved into the middle through which the substantial river rushed. It also had a single vertical seam running through the center which I supposed was where the two halves once used to separate. I could hear the roar of the tremendous body of furious water trapped behind this artificial barrier. I had thought that the river was loud and powerful, but now I realized that the existing river was only a trickle compared to its potential cataclysmic might.

  “These people must have been incredible architects,” I said. “How did their civilization go extinct?”

  “Hmm, I don’t really know much about history, but I think it had something to do with the economy,” Tarlinis replied. The maple leaf twirled thoughtfully.

  “Okay, well, what was the mechanism for splitting the dam?” I asked.

  “There’s a trapdoor, permanently sealed now, which leads to an underwater chamber,” Tarlinis replied. “And inside that chamber, there’s a wheel that you can spin to retract the dam. Could spin, anyway. But it’s permanently lodged into place now.”

  “You mean it’s rusted?” I asked.

  “Worse than that, the metal has sort of melded together, I don’t know what it’s made of but it decomposes weirdly,” Tarlinis said. “It’s stuck. There’s no way to spin it.”

  “You’ve tried?” I asked.

  “Well, yes, not recently, but in peaceful years past, out of boredom,” Tarlinis said. “I kind of just wander around the area and pass through trees and mountains and stuff sometimes. That’s how I accidentally found the underwater chamber.”

  “Where is the chamber?” I asked.

  The maple leaf pointed. “Over there, on the other side of the barrier. You would have to be a freakishly strong swimmer to get to it without drowning. Or able to walk through water without being affected by the currents or needing to breathe, like me.”

  “Lucky we’ve got you for the job, then,” I said.

  “I already told you there’s no way to make the wheel spin anymore, though,” Tarlinis said.

  “I’ve got a friend who might have a way,” I said. “Let’s head back and rejoin the others.”

  One of my selves that was back waiting with the rest of the group told Willobee, “Think you can work up some of that blue slime of yours?”

  “Easily, Master,” replied the gnome, who was never at his happiest when we were confronted with a potential battle and had turned positively ill looking as soon as I reported my estimate of the Thorvinian numbers to the group. “May I inquire as to the purpose?”

  I explained the si
tuation with the dam a mile upriver.

  “Hoo boy, those beasties will never know what hit ‘em,” Lizzy said. “If Tarlinis is telling you the truth, anyway. He kinda creeps me out. I don’t trust anyone that I can’t see.”

  “I think he’s harmless,” Ilandere said. “Maybe not particularly impressive, as gods go, but I think he means well.”

  “You think everybody means well,” Lizzy groaned. “Even after you got kidnapped and nearly sold into slavery and all the times we’ve all almost got killed, you still think that. It makes no sense, horse.”

  “Well, maybe not everybody,” Ilandere said, “but I think the positive intentions in the world outweigh the negative ones.”

  “Nah, that ain’t true either,” Lizzy said. “People mostly just don’t give a shit about each other is the main thing, more than love or hatred. If you’re comparing the sum total of every emotion the biggest one is just no emotion at all.”

  “Indifference, you mean,” Florenia said. “Well, I’m not sure that qualifies as an emotion. And that wouldn’t actually affect the mathematics of Ilandere’s statement, since it’s neither positive nor negative.”

  “I don’t think people feel indifferent towards me very often,” Willobee remarked. “Usually, my natural charisma and calculated social stratagems leave them completely besotted with me. But sometimes, I miscalculate, or we experience a misunderstanding, and then--”

  “They try to kill you or turn you into a toad,” Lizzy said. “Yeah, guess you’re right about that, gnome.”

  “You know, you don’t really make full use of your natural defense mechanism in hostile situations,” Elodette informed Willobee.

  “Well, I try, but I’m not a very fast runner, and I’m a bit too conspicuous to hide,” Willobee sighed.

  “I mean your blue slime,” the centaur groaned.

  “The trouble with my blue slime is that in order for someone to be slowly liquefied into their basic components by contact with it, they have to be within vomiting range of me, and I don’t like allowing anyone dangerous within vomiting range of me,” Willobee explained.

  “My bow range is exponentially greater than your vomiting range, though,” Elodette said. “We should dip some arrows in it.”

  “The arrows would dissolve, though, wouldn’t they?” I asked.

  “Yes, but not immediately,” Elodette said. “They’d last long enough to shoot. And if we could figure out some kind of formula for a mixture that would preserve the acidic properties of the vomit in relation to flesh, and yet protect steel arrowheads, that would be ideal. We could bottle it and--”

  “Sell it!” Willobee exclaimed. His lantern like eyes lit up with excitement. “Elodette, you’re a genius!”

  “What?” sputtered the black centaur. “I wasn’t--”

  “Yes, yes, this will work splendidly,” Willobee interrupted. “Once we determine a stable formula that can be stored in bottles without dissolving the bottles themselves, and applied to steel without dissolving the steel, we can demonstrate its properties in public venues. Perhaps we can borrow some condemned criminals or something of the sort for the purpose. Then, we can engineer a local conflict, and sell acid-enhanced weaponry to both sides! We’ll be richer than Grumkins the dragon.”

  “That’s not what I-- ” Elodette tried to say again.

  “My, you have a more devious mind than I gave you credit for, my friend,” Willobee told her as he beamed at her proudly.

  “That plan sounds horrible!” Ilandere exclaimed. “We’d be hurting people on purpose. We can’t do that. Vander, tell him we can’t possibly do that.”

  “We’re a little busy right now trying to defeat Thorvinius,” I reminded Willobee.

  “Yes, but war requires funding,” Willobee pointed out. “Steady sources of funding. Not just winning a card game here and there, although I must admit, I am rather brilliant at that.”

  I sighed. “It’s worked just fine for us so far, and this isn’t exactly conventional warfare.”

  Luckily, my other self showed up accompanied by the floating maple leaf then, and Willobee got too distracted to make a retort.

  “So Tarlinis, can you bring a vial of acid bile with you when you pass through the water?” I asked. “Or would it just pass through your hand when your hand is insubstantial like that?”

  The invisible god was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Well, I guess I could put the vial in my mouth, if it was small enough. Anything that’s inside my body when I go insubstantial goes insubstantial too, and then when I go solid, it goes back to solid. I can’t carry anything in my hands though because then it just passes through, like you said.”

  “Hmm so if you shove something up your--” Lizzy began.

  “Great!” I interrupted. “That makes things fairly easy. We’ll just have to find a small vial then and make sure it doesn’t dissolve too fast, before you can get into the chamber, turn solid again, and take it out of your mouth. Elodette, do you still have vials left in your saddlebags, I mean packs, the ones that you use to store herbs and stuff?”

  “Yes,” the large centaur affirmed. She removed the saddlebags, rifled through, and drew out a few small vials.

  “How long does glass typically take to dissolve, Willobee?” I asked him.

  “About half an hour,” the gnome answered.

  “That’s plenty of time, right?” I asked Tarlinis. An exceptionally strong swimmer supposedly could make it to the trapdoor, according to him, and no human could hold his or her breath for half an hour.

  “Yes,” the invisible god conceded as the maple leaf twirled dubiously in the air, “but, er, what exactly does this acid bile stuff do? What would happen if the vial broke in my mouth?”

  “It does exactly what it sounds like it does, so, don’t let it break,” I said. “But if it did break, couldn’t you just open your mouth so that the acid wouldn’t be fully enclosed inside anymore, and then it would just pass through you without affecting you like any other substance?”

  “I’m not sure, I’ve never really tried anything like that,” Tarlinis said. He didn’t sound as though he were particularly eager to try it, either.

  “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I said. “And I’m pretty sure this is our best plan, if you want there to be any chance of saving your people from the Thorvinians. I wish I could just fight them, but I can’t. There are too many.”

  “I’m not brave either,” Ilandere said as she gazed sympathetically in the direction of the maple leaf, “but being around Vander makes me braver, and I bet it will do the same for you.”

  “I guess if everyone in that castle died, then no one would ever worship me again,” sighed Tarlinis. To be honest, I didn’t really think he deserved their worship anyway based on my impressions of him so far, but I wasn’t about to say so. “Who are you people anyway? Why do you care so much about what happens to my temple and my order?”

  “We are enemies of Thorvinius,” I answered quickly before any of the women could start talking about me being a god. I didn’t want to give Tarlinis any reason to perceive me as competition. He didn’t seem particularly aggressive or macho, in fact he was about the furthest thing from it, but he did evidently care about whether his order worshiped him, in fact, that seemed to be his main source of concern for their fate. So his status as a god clearly meant something to him. “Thorvinius destroyed my temple and killed everyone in my order.”

  “Hmm, does everyone in your order look like you too?” Tarlinis asked curiously.

  I hesitated, then answered, “Yes.” Since the rest of my order was dead, my selves now comprised “everyone in my order,” so it wasn’t even a lie.

  “Oh, I see,” Tarlinis said without asking any further questions. “Well, must be nice for you all. So, you want me to take this acid and pour it on the wheel?”

  “Well, ‘pour’ might not be the right word,” I said. “More like, ‘apply with precision to the site where the stone is melded together.’ The
n wait until enough of it dissolves that you can turn the wheel again.”

  “Do not underestimate the power of the blue slime,” Willobee agreed. “Now, where do you want me to barf, Master? I can’t exactly aim into one of those itty bitty vials.”

  I pointed to the ground. “Just there. Then we can scoop some in.”

  Ilandere hurriedly lifted the gnome down from her back, and he waddled off a few yards to where he wouldn’t accidentally end up splashing any of us and then did the honors with loud, disgusting noises.

  The smell filled the air and Florenia and Ilandere both gagged. Lizzy, of course, could smell it most intensely of all, but she tended to be less squeamish than most people.

  “Oh d-dear,” Tarlinis wheezed. “You want me to carry that stuff? In my mouth?”

  “It is a great honor to wield the power of the blue slime,” Willobee informed him.

  “It’ll be in a sealed vial, don’t worry,” I said.

  One of me crouched down with one of Elodette’s vials, dipped a stick into the bubbling bright blue puddle, and carefully dribbled a bit of it off the end of the stick into the open vial. Then I capped off the vial while the slime-dipped stick sizzled and steadily disintegrated.

  “I am worried,” announced Tarlinis. “Very much so.”

  “Okay, well don’t be a little bitch about it,” Lizzy commanded.

  Tarlinis huffed, “I am a god, you know.”

  “Then now is the time to prove it,” Florenia said sweetly.

  We returned to the site of the dam this time as a whole group and once again circumvented the Thorvinian camp. I led the way just in case there were any Thorvinians waiting to waylay us, but none of them seemed aware of our presence. They were all just focused on the towers of the solid stone temple. Sometimes far off in the distance I saw them heave rocks or fireballs at it using some kind of giant trebuchets they had, but that seemed like more of an angry gesture or a way to relieve boredom than anything else, since the temple seemed impervious to those kinds of attacks.