Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming Read Free Page B

inspiration, and my conscience. She who had encouraged me to strive beyond the limitations of my Aspect, then consoled me when I’d invariably failed. She who had argued so strongly against my secret plans to overthrow Baranak’s ruling circle and install myself as ruler of the City. She who had watched in sorrow as my plans were exposed and an army of gods marched out to meet my followers and me before we were fully ready to strike.
    She had stood there, in the main square of the City, her hands raised between both armies, appealing for peace and restraint. She had faced even mighty Baranak down with the sheer force of her will and the purity of her intent. She had been determined to stop my war before it got going, and she had said--
    “There’s nothing to be gained from this, can’t you see?”
    My mind snapped instantly back to the present.
    Those words. Had Evelyn actually spoken them, just then? Or had they merely floated up to me, from out of the depths of time, echoes and memories of my long-lost love? I wasn’t sure.
    I looked at the humans again and saw that their captain had indeed spoken them. She had stopped the fight with those words.
    Thus did the mortal woman Evelyn Colicos, with her poise and her strength and her grace, inscribe the first cracks in the wall surrounding my black heart, and summon ghosts from ten centuries in the past to torment me. That was the moment when all my plans and dreams came to naught, though I scarcely suspected the truth until much, much later.
    At about that time the door opened, shattering my reverie.
    The “door” was in actuality a portal, a breach in the fabric of reality that could only be opened from the outside. It shimmered into existence a few feet from us, blindingly bright golden lights flooding through. I raised a hand to shade my eyes, and saw the humans behind me cringing.
    “Could you turn it down a bit, perhaps?” I called into the light, my voice tinged with sarcasm. “I don’t think the humans are equipped to tolerate your glorious radiance.”
    The two of Baranak’s Host who had entered flared in indignation before settling into a more torch-like blaze. They moved to each side of the portal as their lord and master—and our captor—stepped through. Behind him came two others, whom I did not recognize at first.
    “The dark god himself. So. This one is the cause of all our pain and woe,” said the figure to Baranak’s right. I knew him then: Vorthan, the self-styled god of the forge. Our engineer and builder. His mottled bald scalp reflected the Host’s golden light; above his black goatee, two red-tinged eyes seemed to bore through me. His muscular arms were crossed over his chest, and contempt dripped from his every word. “My compliments, Baranak, on his swift capture.”
    “Indeed, you acted swiftly,” came a female voice to Baranak’s left, “but are you certain you acted properly?”
    Alaria, of course. Tall she was, and curvy, fitted within a tight, black dress that shone of intricate patterns in the flickering light, iridescent and shifting and almost snakeskin-like. Her eyes, rimmed in black, sparkled with many colors; her thick, pouty lips shone with the color of wine. Her narrow face, pale to nearly white, lay within a sea of hair so deeply red as to appear almost black, shot through with shades of burgundy and magenta where the light struck it. Two long braids trailed down her left shoulder and over her breast. In all, her Aspect caused me to ponder anew the concepts of beauty and love and desire. What else would you expect? As with all of us, she lived up to the part she desired to play.
    “Is this then the guilty party?” she asked, gazing at me where I sat.
    “Who else?” Baranak growled.
    “And there is no doubt?” she continued.
    The big, blond god seemed momentarily troubled by her question, but swept it aside.
    “Can there be any?” he said by way of answer.
    “None of the other few who remain has a motive,”