gods, but some of my fellows claim to have.”
She paused for a moment, taking a breath. “As for why the gods don’t appear in person, there are a few reasons for that. The Tae’os Pantheon are not the first generation of gods. They were mortals once, like you and me. Unless you’re very well-read, you probably haven’t even heard the names of the older gods – except for Vaelien, of course.”
“If the histories are true, the older gods took a much more active role in the world. Their reward? Delsen was killed by his own children when he attempted to stop them from warring against one another. Caerdanel sacrificed herself to save a mortal city from a foreign god. Records on the others are scarce, but it’s fair to say that they either fled or died.”
Lydia looked down, shaking her head in frustration. “We can’t be trusted to deal with the gods directly. Time and time again, mortals betray the gods that serve them. The Tae’os Pantheon has taken a safer path – they guide us from a distance, and give us the strength to protect ourselves in the form of sorcery. Vaelien’s followers call it cowardice. I consider it a good long-term strategy.”
Taelien scratched at his chin. “Didn’t sorcery exist before the Tae’os Pantheon?”
“Of course, but it wasn’t anywhere near as prevalent. We don’t know exactly how the gods work, but each god appears to be able to grant particular types of sorcery to mortals who were born without any talent for it. This is colloquially referred to as being given the ‘gifts of the gods’. Some gifted humans demonstrate sorcerous abilities that are beyond what a traditional sorcerer is capable of. One of my mentors has a gift from Sytira that allows him to completely nullify sorcery in a specific area.”
That’s pretty impressive. “That makes some sense. I can see why people would want their gods to be physically present, though, which must be why the local religion is so appealing.”
“Of course. Who wouldn’t want to meet the deity they worship? It’s an appealing idea from our perspective, but from the perspective of the true gods, it would not be worth the risk. Even Vaelien, the oldest and most powerful deity still living, rarely appears without an entourage. And history has recorded more than one failed attempt to assassinate Vaelien – at least one of which was by one of his own children.”
“All right, I can see why your gods might not be making any big public demonstrations, then. But how am I supposed to know what they want me to do without any guidance?” Taelien shook his head. “I need to find this Erik Tarren. My parents were insistent that he could help.”
“I understand your desire to learn. I’m a Sytiran, after all. But please, be patient. If I ask you to leave the city for your own safety, I need you to listen. I want to know about your connection to the sword, too – it could be one of the most important discoveries for my religion in a hundred years. I will look for Tarren even if you have to leave.” Her expression was soft, her eyes pleading. Taelien turned his head aside.
“Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll leave if it looks like Myros is going to arrive.”
“Thank you,” she beamed a smile at him. “Now, where’d you learn how to cut through fire with a sword?”
“Oh, that? I grew up near Selyr. When I was ten, I was sent for sorcerous aptitude testing. My parents wanted me to deliberately fail, but I was too proud. My performance earned me six years of mandatory military training. Since my proficiency was with metal sorcery, most of my training involved learning how to use spells to augment my sword work.”
“The practice of taking children away from home like that is barbaric. Your parents must have been furious. How old were you?”
Taelien shrugged. “I was ten. Honestly, it wasn’t so bad. My parents were upset, sure, but they had gone through the same thing when they were young. I hated it for the first
She paused for a moment, taking a breath. “As for why the gods don’t appear in person, there are a few reasons for that. The Tae’os Pantheon are not the first generation of gods. They were mortals once, like you and me. Unless you’re very well-read, you probably haven’t even heard the names of the older gods – except for Vaelien, of course.”
“If the histories are true, the older gods took a much more active role in the world. Their reward? Delsen was killed by his own children when he attempted to stop them from warring against one another. Caerdanel sacrificed herself to save a mortal city from a foreign god. Records on the others are scarce, but it’s fair to say that they either fled or died.”
Lydia looked down, shaking her head in frustration. “We can’t be trusted to deal with the gods directly. Time and time again, mortals betray the gods that serve them. The Tae’os Pantheon has taken a safer path – they guide us from a distance, and give us the strength to protect ourselves in the form of sorcery. Vaelien’s followers call it cowardice. I consider it a good long-term strategy.”
Taelien scratched at his chin. “Didn’t sorcery exist before the Tae’os Pantheon?”
“Of course, but it wasn’t anywhere near as prevalent. We don’t know exactly how the gods work, but each god appears to be able to grant particular types of sorcery to mortals who were born without any talent for it. This is colloquially referred to as being given the ‘gifts of the gods’. Some gifted humans demonstrate sorcerous abilities that are beyond what a traditional sorcerer is capable of. One of my mentors has a gift from Sytira that allows him to completely nullify sorcery in a specific area.”
That’s pretty impressive. “That makes some sense. I can see why people would want their gods to be physically present, though, which must be why the local religion is so appealing.”
“Of course. Who wouldn’t want to meet the deity they worship? It’s an appealing idea from our perspective, but from the perspective of the true gods, it would not be worth the risk. Even Vaelien, the oldest and most powerful deity still living, rarely appears without an entourage. And history has recorded more than one failed attempt to assassinate Vaelien – at least one of which was by one of his own children.”
“All right, I can see why your gods might not be making any big public demonstrations, then. But how am I supposed to know what they want me to do without any guidance?” Taelien shook his head. “I need to find this Erik Tarren. My parents were insistent that he could help.”
“I understand your desire to learn. I’m a Sytiran, after all. But please, be patient. If I ask you to leave the city for your own safety, I need you to listen. I want to know about your connection to the sword, too – it could be one of the most important discoveries for my religion in a hundred years. I will look for Tarren even if you have to leave.” Her expression was soft, her eyes pleading. Taelien turned his head aside.
“Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll leave if it looks like Myros is going to arrive.”
“Thank you,” she beamed a smile at him. “Now, where’d you learn how to cut through fire with a sword?”
“Oh, that? I grew up near Selyr. When I was ten, I was sent for sorcerous aptitude testing. My parents wanted me to deliberately fail, but I was too proud. My performance earned me six years of mandatory military training. Since my proficiency was with metal sorcery, most of my training involved learning how to use spells to augment my sword work.”
“The practice of taking children away from home like that is barbaric. Your parents must have been furious. How old were you?”
Taelien shrugged. “I was ten. Honestly, it wasn’t so bad. My parents were upset, sure, but they had gone through the same thing when they were young. I hated it for the first
Similar Books
