Chapter 1

(The Gathering, the wizard, a decision is made...)

T

he lone god walked along the desolate plain, needing no company for the journey that he was now taking. It’s footfalls sounded much like thunderclaps as they echoed across the vast region, sending out a doom over the land. Even the sparse plant life that always seemed to somehow survive in this area couldn't begin to muffle the heavy timbre of this immortal's passing. The scaly-covered deity crushed many of those same shrubs, where they withered and died beneath its stony feet. Behind him lay a path of utter destruction. Even insects avoided this path several cubits in all directions, for those that fell within that radius died horrible, mummified deaths.

The god did not notice such common occurrences, nor would he care if he did see these things, for it would bring him little pleasure... He had been living a very long time, and as such he found few things rarely brought him joy. Existing for such an extensive number of years weighed heavily upon him, for his expression was unmoving, as if cast in living stone. In fact, he looked like a living monolith. His eyes didn't dart about to see the landscape, not that there was really anything to see. His followers seemed to thrive in these types of desolate terrains. It made sense, really. Those of purity... and nobility constantly held their beliefs, and his, in check.

That self-same grandeur was why this deity was here, walking this mortal plane of reality. Summoned first by his priests, and finally entering these affairs of his own accord, the god had approved his follower’s initial plan. It was an ingenious one; utterly simple in design and concept. And it was definitely to his liking. Just thinking of the chaos this plan would bring the realms made the evil being smile, just a little. Fortunately for him, none of his followers were around to see that happen. Certainly it would have been inscribed for all time on the completed pyramid he was slowly approaching.

“Greetings, Deathless One!”

The god stopped cold in his tracks, startled despite himself. He had an uncanny ability to be aware of all things, at all times, within a certain distance from himself. Somehow, this mortal standing alongside the riverbank had successfully masked his presence. Now curious, the deity glanced at the man. However, he immediately recognized the newcomer, and his suspicions flew away.

Not as tall as most human beings, this man was slighter of frame. He was outfitted in his stylish priest-like robes; clothing that shimmered white, despite the influence of the desert sands. Meticulous care was obvious here, for the garments looked as new and fresh as the day they had been made. The robe was decorated along the neckline and at the cuffs with silver, mystic encryptions, meaning something to those of his craft. Whether a marking of station, or possibly some type of protective writings, few people knew. That was part of the mystery of being a magic-user. He was therefore bereft of hair on his head, with the exception of his eyebrows, as were all this god’s high-ranking followers.

That same missing hair allowed the jackal-faced god to recognize this person.

Tanned deeply by the powerful suns, the long, pointed ears couldn’t be missed. Though the elves were somewhat legendary among the human races for their longevity of years, they nonetheless were mortal. His eyes were typical of his people: long, almond-shaped, with a crystal-green hue to them, unworldly in both design and color. Despite the intense heat and discomfort of this barren land, the elf was unaffected by his surroundings. The magician sported sharp, angular features, appearing gaunt to the casual observer, but was healthy otherwise. The elves normally frolicked amongst the greater forests of the realms, but this particular mage had sensed his differences, and left his people before he was quietly put out of his misery by his own kind.

“Reid.” The being’s voice rumbled deeply, altogether an inflection that had no purpose on the world as it was today. The one-word greeting was what the god gave the elf. There wasn’t a reason for anything else.

“My Lord Set.” The master wizard bowed deeply, sweeping his arms in a grand gesture. The action reminded the god of an actor at a coliseum beginning his play. Subsequently, like a performer, the elf quietly fell into step beside the nine-foot tall deity, seemingly deep in character, as they began their trek towards the distant pyramid. The magician was burning with many questions, but he allowed his lord to continue in silence. The greater god seemed lost in concentration, contemplating things that possibly were beyond a mortal’s understanding. Maybe human beings, and their ilk, have no need to know of their god’s intentions, thought the mage, and he in fact respected that ideology. The elf was three hundred years old, ancient compared to any man, but still an infant compared to the gods. His years hadn’t mellowed the magician, but the elf had learned to place those same years in some perspective.

“I have considered your proposal, mage.” The god stared towards the slowly growing pyramid, his eyes fixed with an inner purpose.

The elf nodded deeply as he walked beside his deity. “I am flattered, my lord. My companion, Mendoledous, had the initial idea years ago, and it has taken our combined efforts to bring it thus far. The hallways of this temple have been inscribed with our successes...”

“...And your failures, wizard!” Set interrupted the greater being, whose voice rumbled forth, startling the magician out of his delusions of grandeur.

The god wasn’t angry, but the elf flinched nonetheless. He hated to be reminded of his past defeats, whether the magician had learned from the experience or not. And he continued to berate himself when Set continued. “Did you really believe that ones’ such as you, with your mystical powers, could possibly begin to alter that which the combined gods allowed to happen?”

The wizard started to reply, then thought again, and kept his silence.

Without missing a beat, as if the wizard wasn’t supposed to answer back, Set glanced skyward, staring at a point above and beyond the temple they were approaching. “Reidiatel of Testricolyier, do you still have the prisoner?”

Stiffening upon hearing his formal elven name, the wizard replied quickly. “No, Most High. That damnable paladin found the only viable escape from us last night, curse his soul. However, Mendoledous was able to keep his spirit imprisoned, so as not to alert the Sun God to our plans.”

“Bah! The old fool couldn’t care less. Ra doesn’t concern me in the slightest. But Osiris, our God of Death, could potentially interfere. To keep a spirit prisoner when it’s time to be judged by that idiot... that simply won’t do. We will deal with the consequences later. You are to release the paladin’s spirit now!”

Reid uttered a phrase in magic, and disappeared with a small show of light and sound.

Set shook his head as if in disbelief. Isis, the ever-beautiful Goddess of Magic, evidently liked this elf, despite his radically different beliefs. His expertise in the potentially difficult teleportation spell was exemplary. And the God of Evil was silently glad that he had her blessings in this upcoming enterprise.

They would need it.

Without another thought, Set, the Egyptian Snake-God of Evil, continued his trek, the incident nearly forgotten, his thoughts occupied with the upcoming events.

***************************************************

Seated on the crudely chiseled throne, the Greek God of the Underworld, Hades, grimaced. He hated the desert, and hated not being closer to his now distant followers encamped a mile or so away from this hated Egyptian monument. And he hated being so dependent on his dedicated flock. Plus, he also hated this stone chair. The god had convinced himself that the throne was, in fact, a torture device, intricately planned to be so. He glanced at the sculpted rock that was the place of honor he now sat on, and silently wondered if he could exact his powers to change the structure of the earth, as was his ability. Had this have been his realm, there wouldn’t be any doubt in his mind, but this was Set’s domain, and here, the Snake-God ruled... absolutely.

Finally, and quite selfishly, he allowed his power to float out, and the elaborate chair he sat on soon changed into a soft, reclining, golden bench. When all was as he wanted it to be, he stretched out on his creation somewhat lazily, like an old hound dog next to a warming fireplace.

“Comfortable?”

Hades eyes flashed open, now painfully aware of another immortal’s presence suddenly before him. He snarled, spun and flashed out his enchanted sword, fully intending to decapitate the smirking interloper. The fur-cloaked upstart wasn’t aware the toga-wearing god was armed, and in surprise that wiped that grin off his face, up screamed his own weapon, an enchanted wooden club, in a quick, defensive maneuver. The two weapons rang out with green and blue sparks, and both of the skirmishing deities grimaced in pain and shock. However, no blemish appeared to be on either the metallic sword, or on the studded cudgel that the outsider preferred. Hades glared angrily at the northerner for a few moments, then shook his head with disgust and sat back down, appearing to dismiss the entire incident.

“Feel better?” the foreigner sarcastically replied, shaking out the numbness in his still- throbbing hand.

“Aye,” retorted back the Greek. He lowered his sword, readjusted his toga and gestured for the Celtic God of the Dead to have a seat next to him.

Arawn, the Dark One, as he is known by his followers, glanced at the stone pyramid in distaste, appalled by the differences between his beliefs, and those of the Egyptian nations. The Celts lived in the northern climes, surrounded by nature. In fact, their clerics were druids, those types of priests that derive their powers from rural settings, the forests and the streams. This desert-life was alien to him. As unknown as the woodlands would be to the Egyptian nomads that were gathering below in great numbers, awaiting the coming of their lord and master, whose steps could now be heard off in the distance. Thinking of their host, Arawn gazed at the valley in the distance, his eyes easily piercing the span. The Celt watched the Egyptian god for a second or two, and then blinked his eyes away from the vision he created.

“That one does have a flare for the dramatic,” said Hades. “Aye, it’s ALL too clear. I can see this now. Soon, the mortals will be talking about the Footsteps of Set, or the Pathway of Evil, or some other such nonsense!”

Arawn glanced behind him at the lounging Greek, and smirked. “Speak for yourself, friend Hades. Drama can be your domain as well.” Seeing Hades’ surprised expression, he continued. “Or are you not the one that when he wants to be feared goes from this most handsome visage, to an utterly abominable one; an image of fires raging in your eye sockets, and fangs that drip icor? And you constantly shape change in battle, or when your ire has been drawn as the proverbial serpent is about to strike.”

The Greek lord of the underworld shook his head slowly. “Speak not of serpents, Dark One, for they are Set’s dominion. And what of you? I noticed that you excluded yourself in your pretty little speech.” His voice took on the annoying quality that Arawn hated so damned much. “You live on that ghastly isle in the middle of the dead ocean that only the deceased can find. You have the very stench of death upon you now, and you wear it so comfortably, much like that dreadful pelt. I find your interest in the forest arcane, in the least, compared to how cheerless and drab your home really is.”

Suddenly, another form appeared before the pair as they were naturally drawn into their very old, and very tired debate. The mists created a female figure, and as she stepped out of the shadows of the gray haze, the two fell silent. That was her nature; the seducer, and the trickster of souls. Clothed only in a transparent cloth, made out of the barest whispers of silk, she strolled casually over to the shocked pair, who was watching every single captivating movement she made. Placing her hands in the crook of their arms, she grinned and nonchalantly directed them back to their seats.

Without thinking, Hades soon had a bench manufactured out of the very stone of Set’s temple, one similar to his for the goddess to sit upon. The tanned Aztec native cooed appreciatively as to the comfort, and though she smiled her thanks, the humor never reached her dark, luminous eyes. Her thick hair was decorated with a simple wooden trinket, possibly given to her from one of her followers, and the sight of that unadorned bauble only brought forth the attractiveness of her features. Flawless couldn’t begin to describe the seductive vision, her beauty matched only by her corruptness.

Suddenly, viciously, she sat up glancing to her right, sensing as only a goddess could the change in the area. The reason for her unease became apparent. There, a pale, undead apparition resembling a corpse of many days was slowly climbing the pyramid, wearing a grin that only the dead share. The being was from outside of nature, powered by its indomitable will, unholy and completely sinister. A strange, red light shone in its eyes as the god-lich continued its ascent. Ignoring both Hades and Arawn, the undead figure grabbed the lady’s hand, and moved as if to kiss it. With a look of absolute hatred, and not just a little revulsion, she quickly disengaged her hand from his. There the phantom’s presence could be seen still as the cold-damaged skin regenerated slowly, but healed nonetheless. Only a god could mend like that after touching the afterlife, or at least this mockery of life. Soon, the only reminder to the lich’s touch was a bluish color on her hand where he had physically made contact with the maiden.

“Why, is there no room for my caresses, Tlazolteotl, Mistress of Vice?” it croaked out, as the horrifying inner light in his eyes flared briefly. It breathed a rattling breath, merely for it’s benefit, for as an undead being, it didn’t need to breathe at all!

“Why are you here?” she hissed, dropping in a defensive crouch further away from the specter, which continued to regard her coldly. “For what possible reason is your presence required, Mictlantecuhtli? This enterprise is about creating something out of life, not drag it screaming and clawing into your dark realm.”

The Aztecian God of Death waved a bony finger at her as if admonishing a child. “Tsk Tsk, my dear. You wound me, to the very quick.” He grinned at his attempt at humor. When the other gods didn’t respond, the lich continued speaking, but he seemed hurt that the others didn’t appreciate his joke. “I have been sent here by the Law Giver himself. Your plan is certain to fail, and that will bring what remains of this realm under my jurisdiction.”

“Quetzalcoatl?” she whispered. “How did the Air God find out of this?”

The lich sneered back in response. He despised the immortal’s formal name, much preferring the one the mortal priests had given the Law Giver when he first appeared to them some ages ago. “Relax, Goddess. Kukulcan doesn’t care about your goal here. His only real concern is to the continuation of reality, and this plan threatens that. Even his archenemy, Tezcatlipoca, the Sun God, agrees with him on this. You must have the support of all the deities, from all of the various mythoi. Your goals are valuable, we admit, for the balance is out of play, but your strategy needs to be altered.”

Stepping forward, Hades stood before his fellow death god, and regarded him for a moment. “What will your ruler do?”

Shrugging, the undead rival deity answered back somewhat reluctantly. “At the moment, only watch... and judge. At this point, he could do nothing, as you well know, Death God.” Mictlantecuhtli hissed the last phrase out, and Hades, brother to Zeus, and nearly equal in power, bristled at this, but the specter gestured him still with a motion. “His hands are tied now. I sense that despite our warnings, you shall proceed anyway. However, that is good as well.”

It turned slightly, tilting it’s head, the bones creaking unnaturally. Power radiated unchecked from the apparition as it concentrated. Slowly its voice resounded out a prophecy of doom. “Our realms of death shall be full, and the mortal’s world shall be no more. A blanket of gray fog shall eventually cover the land, and...” Here, the native god paused, bearing silent witness to the gathered schemers. He noticed that he had the attention of all that were assembled, and then with obvious delight, let the statement hang.

Then with a shrug, the lich turned to go, but paused one final time, and spun to face the trio. “I shall enjoy the outcome, believe me!” He regarded the shaken goddess, who sat on her golden throne, staring in shock at nothing in particular. “I’ll be keeping my extra eye on you, my dear. Our chase continues, eh?” And with that, the revenant motioned to his left, and walked through the gateway that materialized therein. A moment after the undead being passed through the mystical doorway, it blinked out of existence. Nothing remained to remind anyone that it had ever been there, but the doubts that the lich-god had placed lingered on, as if he had never left.

***************************************************

As the jackal-faced god completed his journey, he had been aware of other immortals coming and going. That was expected, and so he had turned his attentions elsewhere. Testing the air with his scaled hand, Set nodded, now aware that all was well with his flock of worshipers. Nodding his head, the scaly deity methodically ascended the pyramid, his mind on the future.

“Is all in readiness?” Set inquired, as he placed his foot on the six hundredth and sixty-sixth step, completing his trip to the top of the temple. His question was directed at a white-robed figure, which was sitting off to the side, lost in meditation. The figure started at the question, but nodded its head quickly. Set glanced away, the mortal forgotten, as the Egyptian lord noticed the thrones that had been altered by the Greek visitor. For a while Set stared at the exotic maiden, mesmerized by her flawlessness. It was hard for him to believe that beneath her icy skin beat the heart of a maniac. Tempting couldn’t begin to describe his interest in her. As he stared a moment longer, he noticed that she was trembling from fear. This disturbed him, and not just a little.

For what could scare a god of evil?

“We have to talk, Lord Set!”

With a gasp of utter surprise, the two outsider gods stumbled, and took a step backwards. Set made no outward show of astonishment, but instead simply took a deep breath, and let it out ever so slowly. The snake deity was all too aware of who the newcomer that had just spoken was, and had no real desire to greet him. However, sooner than he would have liked, the presence of Ra, absolute Lord of the Egyptian culture, was impossible to notice, or at least to acknowledge.

The snake god sighed outwardly as he motioned the assembled deities back. The arrival of Ra had unnerved both the Greek and the Irish gods. The only one that didn’t appear to have noticed was the nearly catatonic Aztec mistress. She just continued to stare off in silence.

“What? Why was there no thunderclap, or some amazing light show to accompany you; to help announce your awe-inspiring visit to my temple, Lord Ra?” sneered back the scaly deity.

“We have no time for our usual bickering, snake-god!” Ra impassively stood upon a cloud of sunshine and floated several feet above the surface of the stones of the pyramid. The deity basically had an appearance much like a very powerful mortal, with the exception of his head, where instead of a human’s face, there was the head of a kindly, majestic hawk. “You have trodden the path of utter destruction, and I ask you, no I beg you, to please not do this thing that you and these other idiots seem destined to do. The mortals cannot...”

“ENOUGH!” thundered back Set, announcing for all that this was indeed his domain. “I could banish you with a thought! Do not try my patience, sun god!”

Ra chose his thoughts well, and took a deep breath to calm both Set and himself. “I am well aware of your center of power Set. I came in peace, to negotiate with you, and your chosen accomplices.”

Suddenly, Tlazolteotl rushed forward, tears streaming unheeded down her face. Ra gazed patiently, even kindly upon her, as if she were a child. Unspoken communication flowed between them for what seemed an eternity, during which Hades and Set exchanged a worried glance. Arawn simply stared at Ra’s visage, as if trying to pick those thoughts out of the air that were only for the native goddess of pain, and the Egyptian god of light. Finally, Tlazolteotl reached up, dried the tears from her eyes, and, not so surprising to the remaining trio, she started to rise upon the wings of the air. She smiled sadly to Set, and then opened her mind to him.

After a moment, Set nodded, and sent the goddess of pain on her way with a simple gesture. Tlazolteotl faded to a brief point of light, and then streaked across the sky towards her native homeland. Ra waited patiently for Set to respond, but the snake god just sat on his excavated throne of power, his mind going over the last few moments. Arawn and Hades both sat as well, lost within the power scheme that was unfolding before them. Soon, the Egyptian god of evil glanced at his ruler and nodded. “The playing board is still the same size, although my queen has been nullified.” Then to the surprise of his accomplices, asked, “Can I still count on your help?”

“Maybe,” Ra responded, thoughtful. “The Norse God, Thor, & his half-brother, Loki will make up my mind. If they will ally themselves with you, you might yet succeed.” Ra smiled down at his archenemy. “I will contact you when the time is right.” And saying that, he ascended in the sky to become one with the sun that was his.

Set never turned in his seat, but sent his next question back to his co-plotters. “And did you get the borrowed power?” Hearing their replies made Set smile. Really and truly smile. It was worth a few whispers amongst his retinue, for the outcome would remain the same.

Then, energy began to spring forth from the pyramid. Like a fog, it encircled the three remaining gods as they each stood and took a position of power at the center of the platform. Eyes closed in concentration, they let loose their borrowed ethereal essences, and it began to swirl around their feet, searching, questing for a place to go to. Set gestured, and like one being, all essences began to flow down the steps of the monument, seeking cracks and shadows, cleansing and sealing.

Soon, the building began to assume the aura of what it was to become. Raw blistering energy soothed the structure, and it started to become a life of its own. The trio noticed this, and nodded to each other. Arawn and Hades reached forward into the very surface of the monument, and began to concentrate deeply. Set’s eyes danced with the essence of the ethereal world, taping the untapped vast sources he had access to. Then he sighed deeply, and opened his eyes. Taking a deep breath, if only for his own comfort, the scaly-skinned god announced, “Begin!”