War Aeternus 2: Sacrifices Read online

  War Aeternus: Sacrifices

  Written by: Charles Dean

  Edited by: Joshua Swayne and Richard Haygood

  Copyright © 2018 by Charles Dean

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Rock Hard and Ready

  Chapter 2: Tight Fight with a Brewer’s Delight

  Chapter 3: Pub-to-Pub Sales God

  Chapter 4: LIVE TONIGHT: Thirsty Gladiator Bares All!

  Chapter 5: The Starving Artist: Combat Edition

  Chapter 6: A PL in Hell

  Chapter 7: The Vanishing Pants Trick

  Chapter 8: Meeting the Dad is a Walk in the Park

  Chapter 9: Beer Bro Reunion

  Chapter 10: Screw the Messenger

  Chapter 11: A Story About Dragons

  Chapter 12: Expiration Date

  Epilogue: The MC Needs to Get Laid Already

  Bonus Chapter 1: Miller’s Loss

  Game Manual

  (Stats, Characters, Races, Items, Skills, Locations, Quests, Monsters, Gaming Terms)

  About the Author

  Other Books by Charles Dean

  Prologue

  I must apologize before you go further into this book, for I will be lying to you. I will be using only fiction to tell the truth. My words will be a distracting contrivance of smoke and mirrors that I will use to shine light on the beast that is man, the divine clay, shaped by God, hardened by reason, broken by time. I hope, in the end, my sin of deception can be forgiven by you, the reader.

  The Book of Lee ~ Prelude, Verses 1-3

  Augustus sat in front of a bank of monitors, his tiny chimpanzee head slowly swiveling back and forth from one side to the other as he took in everything. Images reflected back that would appear as little more than simple static to any mere mortal, but in reality, they were captured moments taken from the various lives he had lived, each playing at thousands of times the speed at which they had been lived. The frenzied torrent of information was something that even most gods would have trouble following, and he alone amongst this region’s Council of the Gods was able to comprehend all streams simultaneously. He was, after all, the closest to actual divinity, however far away that might actually be.

  The memories playing before him were only just that: brief flashes in time that captured all the women he had loved across all the different realities. The still frames flickered past at lightning speed, and he felt the irresistible tug of affection to visit those lost loves. He often felt that same longing, the desperate ache in his gut, that pulled at him to visit those times and relive those moments.

  It wasn’t a question of ability that stopped him. Someone with his level of talent could step into any point in any reality at any time. He could travel to the exact time shown on any one of the screens on a whim, instantly regaining anyone and everyone lost to time as easily as stepping from one room to another. Yet, despite being more than capable, revisiting the past was an unspoken crime forbidden upon pain of death. Augustus was forced to settle for reliving those memories vicariously, forever destined to watch as a third-party observer. He could do little more than watch the loves of his eternally-long life, each one still living and breathing somewhere in the vast expanse of time, live happily ever after with the version of his former self that was displayed on the screen.

  If he dared to step into any of those moments again, the Clockmaker, the being who had created the game, would wipe out his entire existence in an instant. The crime of popping into a timeline at or before a previous visit wasn’t a rule that he or any of the other gods had been told, but it was one that they simply took as fact. It existed in the same way that the laws of gravity did: unspoken but undeniable. Every god who had tried to violate the prohibition had been extinguished, and enough had tried over the eons that very few ever dared question it any longer. Trial and error were how one often learned the true rules of the universe.

  Another such rule, for example, was that each deity must fix their consciousness in the prime reality, the reality of the gods. This prevented any one god from using his powers to spy upon the future of that reality, thereby learning the future winner of the games. Each reality thereafter was, in essence, a separate save file with the potential to be played out until completion. No one realm would ever impact another, and the gods’ influence was limited by their inability to interfere or cheat--something no other god wanted to worry about with stakes as high as these.

  That also meant, of course, that Augustus only ever had two real options: he could either socialize with the other gods, most of whom wouldn’t even speak to him so long as he wore his multifarious animal disguises, or he could spend decades staring at the screens in his room, watching and rewatching digital memories of his temporary, partial excursions into other worlds.

  Conveniently, and fortunately, the rules of the game were provided in clearly-stated, big blue pop-up boxes for every god to see, and they were always given in advance. The other caveat, the one that prevented anyone from cheating as soundly as gravity kept one’s feet planted to the ground, was the prime rule, which was always stated first: “You may not kill another god outside the game or outside using one’s Herald to kill another, thereby extinguishing that god’s life.” This same rule also helped maintain civility between the gods, even when the games were being played.

  It was also this same rule that was on Augustus’ mind when he was interrupted.

  “You’re the only god I know that would torture himself like that,” Mary’s voice called out from the doorway as she entered Augustus’ room. “Why do you insist on watching them again and again?”

  “The same reason you insist on showing up here despite knowing who and what I am,” Augustus replied as he changed into his human form, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Sometimes, we just can’t help ourselves.”

  “Why did you never try to find happiness with another god?” Mary asked. “Someone less mortal?”

  “You mean like you?” Augustus asked. He swiveled his chair around, finally tearing his eyes away from the bank of memories and stood up. “You want to know why I fall for mortals when the end result is inevitable? When death is all that waits for the ones I love?”

  She quivered, automatically taking a step back as Augustus rose to his feet. “Yes, that’s . . .” Her voice faltered but her mouth continued to move.

  Augustus laughed snidely. “You can’t even stop yourself from trembling, yet you ask this question? What god would still share my bed for any reason but fear if they knew my form and knew what I had done?”

  “But”--Mary’s shaking lips stiffened--“you could.”

  “What?” Augustus took one large stride forward, and she reflexively moved back even further. Her steps were small, however, and Augustus was right in front of her before she could escape. He leaned in slightly and then reached up with a single hand, turning her chin upward and forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Relax. Take a deep breath. We’re only at the beginning. We have a lot of work to do, a game to watch together, and I can’t have you breaking now.”

  “Yes.” Mary nodded and then moved away from him again. “I’ll be fine.”

  “That’s a good girl.” Augustus smiled down at her still. He didn’t miss the way she defensively cover her chest with her arms or the way she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. Eons have passed, and still this is the reaction I elicit . . . Was my crime so grand? Was my sin so great as to push all who know me into such a state? “Now, tell me why you’
ve come.”

  Mary spoke, and it sounded as if she were forcing the words out. “The meeting . . . Siegman called for another, but you never replied. I wanted to make sure you didn’t show up late and upset anyone.”

  “You mean you wanted to protect them?” Augustus brought up the messages he had been ignoring while watching his past loves. “I see. We’ll be cutting it close on time. Do you want to take a nice walk over there together?”

  Mary’s feet quickly carried her back to the door, her eyes always glued on Augustus. “No, that’s okay. Thank you. I’m just going to head over there so that I’m not late. I’ll . . . I’ll see you there.” Then, whipping around in a single fast movement, she darted out the door as if she were escaping a burning building and too scared to look back.

  Augustus laughed again. “Good girl,” he said quietly, watching her beautiful figure as she retreated. Abandoning his human form once again, he shapeshifted into a silverback gorilla and followed after her.

  -----

  “Augustus, it’s already bad enough that you show up to meetings as monkeys, rats, dogs and whatever other animal you seem to fancy at the time, but must you also further disrespect our gatherings by showing up late?” Siegman’s voice, exasperated as always, carried across the room as Augustus entered.

  The gargantuan ape sauntered across the room unhurriedly, his knuckles dragging across the ground, and seated itself in a chair. As soon as he touched the chair, he began changing shapes yet again--the seat simply wasn’t made to accommodate a hefty primate--and assumed the form of a golden retriever. Given the list Siegman had thrown at him, it seemed appropriate. Truthfully, he rarely morphed into canines. He loved most animals, but dogs were generally clever enough to warrant an exception. They always sensed when he walked around the world wearing furry coats of disguise, and they instantly knew he was a fake. So, he tended to avoid mankind’s protectors and stuck to creatures that didn’t bark so much.

  Augustus snickered as he eased into his chair. “Sorry about that, Siegman. I lost track of time.”

  Siegman seemed so stunned by the apology, despite the fact it was sandwiched within a snide and sarcastic tone, that he didn’t press the issue like he normally would have. “You? Sorry? I see . . . Well, we have a lot on the table for this meeting, and I wanted to get it started as soon as possible. Since I see that everyone is now here and paying attention, let’s start off this discussion with the first pressing event: we’ve had the death of our first god from the new game.”

  Augustus’ eyes shot wide open, and his back straightened. “Wait, are we celebrating? Is this a drinking occasion?” he asked, looking at Siegman in anticipation.

  Siegman, Cadwe and a few other gods looked at Augustus with dismay, but the rest didn’t react at all. Sord, the Loot God of Rising Numbers, never even bothered to lift his head from where it was buried in his arms on the table.

  “What?” Augustus asked indignantly, looking to everyone around him. There wasn’t a hint of joy or amusement to be found on any of them. “You all should lighten up. It’s not like most of you have any skin in the game to begin with.”

  Only, Sord, Mary and Augustus had Heralds in the game, but he understood why they were so reticent to cheer on the death of a god. Lee, Augustus’s Herald, who also happened to be a descendant of Angelica, the Goddess of Regret, had recently killed another Herald. In doing so, he had also killed the God of Storytelling, successfully ending the existence of a being most would call immortal. This god hadn’t been a friend of theirs, wasn’t from their region, and most of the people present had never met him, but he was still one of their own.

  No matter how many gods entered these wars between the avatars called Heralds, it was rare for more than one to leave the war alive. This death had been a clear reminder of the mortality that most liked to pretend they didn’t have--a thing that was almost a guarantee once they were drafted into one of the Creator’s games. Almost everyone at the table would inevitably die sooner or later, and a death in games was a somber promise of that fact. Even the most arrogant god at the table, Siegman, was humbled to the point where Augustus’s reiteration brought nothing more than disdain from him.

  “On our bed, she rests her head, unseen we watch with dread. Each night we sleep, to counting sheep, while she counts out our lives--our memories, the fresh archives, nothing truly survives. But grasp we do, with each platitude, hoping it will occlude--only to find, our hope to bind, left us and her entwined, on the covers, in the bed, where she’ll one day kiss our head.” Cadwe rattled off his poetry as if it were open mic night at a run-down dive.

  Augustus looked over at the woefully-depressing teenager-like God of Poetry and decided, like everyone else at the table, to simply ignore everything he had just heard. “How about you, Mary?” Augustus smiled at the beautiful Goddess of Blood. “Are you sad about this? Or would you perhaps like to celebrate and share a drink with me?” Augustus pulled a flask from the ether and tossed it across the table.

  To everyone’s visible shock, Mary didn’t instantly reject the proffered liquor. Instead, she grabbed the container from the air and held it up in front of her, offering a toast. “I will drink to the fact my Herald still yet lives,” she said, popping open the top and chugging half of the twenty-ounce flask.

  “Something doesn’t smell right,” Erik said with a frown.

  “You really shouldn’t try to pun off your own name. It’s dull,” Sord grumbled at the God of Smells and Spices. “Improve your humor stats with practice elsewhere if needed.”

  Augustus chuckled at the scene. “I’m still not sure why you are all so depressed. You knew this would happen.”

  “Yes, but we thought it would happen later,” Siegman responded. “The war has only been going on for little more than two months, not two years. You should very well know that these games generally last several hundred years. The first death is usually only inflicted after sufficient time has passed for each of the Heralds to seed their religions properly. Your Herald has upset the balance of things and broken longstanding traditions that most gods within these games hold sacred.”

  “I know!” Augustus proclaimed, elevating both his glass and the tension at the same time. “Isn’t it great? My Herald set a new game record! It’s especially impressive when you think about how your stupid penalty set him back by two months, but he still managed to beat another Herald in his first couple of days! Gotta love an upset, right?”

  “That Herald was weak and cowardly, and his death was to be expected. Your Herald only broke the traditional waiting period and sped up the process,” Siegman chastised. “With such a serious matter, with the life of gods on the line, both he and you should show more respect to the process.”

  Lenfers, the God of Architecture, leaned forward and stuck out his hand. “I’ll have a glass,” he said, causing everyone to be a little nervous. Whenever Lenfers made his move in a conversation, it was generally at someone else’s expense.

  Even though he thought something was odd, Augustus was still happy to oblige. He pulled another flask out of nowhere and tossed it to Lenfers. “That’s the spirit, brother. Glad you could join us.”

  Lenfers snatched the flask out of the air and immediately took a swig. He then held the flask in front of him and studied it carefully before looking over at Mary. “I see,” he said. “Mary is indeed acting differently toward our furry friend. She showed up just moments before him, as if they came together and separated just before entering. Since he was late, and she’s generally always early . . .” He trailed off, looking back down at the alcohol.

  With that, the whole table turned to look over at Mary. She sat quietly, suddenly fixated on draining every last drop from the container she clutched tightly. She held the flask up as if it were a shield, and the stares from the other gods were a wall of arrows she was trying to fend off.

  Lenfers resealed his flask and tossed it back to Augustus.

  “Given the situation, Angelica’s silence is t
o be expected. But what have you done, Mary?”

  “She’s just worried about her Herald,” Augustus interjected, defending Mary. “Ease up.” It might have seemed like a casual comment to anyone else, an errant god choosing to suddenly play the role of the white knight and stick up for his friend, but Augustus knew that his words would only add fuel to Lenfers’ suspicions--suspicions he wanted to stoke. “She faces her own death every day with little to no control over it. Perhaps you could be a bit nicer?”

  Lenfers turned his gaze from Mary to Augustus. “I see. Interesting,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Interesting indeed.”

  Mary gave Augustus a weak smile and then went back to trying to pull whatever remained in her flask out for consumption, causing Augustus to cackle softly.

  Chapter 1

  Name: Lee

  Race: Human

  Class: Herald - None

  Level: 17

  Health: 270/270

  EXP: 4002/10500

  Primary Stats:

  Power 27 (28)

  Toughness 27 (28)

  Spirit 27 (28)

  Secondary Stats:

  Charisma 20

  Courage 20

  Deceit 14

  Intelligence 121 (127)

  Honor 5

  Faith 622

  Personal Faith 213

  Skills:

  Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

  Swordplay Novice Level 6

  Sneak Novice Level 9

  Cooking Initiate Level 7

  Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

  Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

  Divine Skills:

  Golem Sculpting Novice Level 9

  Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

  Faith Healing

  Divinity Powers:

  Life in Death