Mightiest of Swords (The Inkwell Trilogy Book 1) by Aaron Buchanan
Authors: Aaron Buchanan
Ads: Link
Tolliver was afflicted by something we had never seen. We’d been all over the world looking for anything. Threatening Apollo with that pyramid was his last hope.”
Where did Tolliver receive the notion to look in my vault for his method of coercion? “Gavin, who gave him that idea? To force Apollo to hill him?”
“It was his…idea?” He hesitated, realizing that there was no possible way the idea originated from Donald Tolliver.
I never knew Apollo, but an old god past his prime would have seen through a trap, surely? “So, someone came in, killed Tolliver and then used the pyramid to kill Apollo?”
“Yeah. Exactly, really. I was downstairs, helping to set the trap when…” he explained.
I interrupted: “Wait—you guys actually planned to, like, bind him there? No way that would have worked,” I demurred.
“Well, never even got the chance to try. By the time I got up the stairs, both Tolliver’s and the god’s body were engulfed in flame. There was this stench of something I’ve never smelled. Chemicals or something.” The car decelerated and came to a halt. Gavin put the car into park.
“So, Tolliver’s killer came, killed the only witness—your master—then ran the pyramid through the distracted Apollo. The pyramid seems to be the prize the murderer was after all along.” I clenched my hands. There was something about staring off into the blank blackness of my eyes that helped me to arrange the facts more quickly than I would have otherwise. “Then he set the blaze. Some sort of chemical fire to dissolve the bodies, I’m guessing?”
A chemical fire would explain how it repudiated the water I sent into the bubble that kept it from spreading.
Whether or not he could read my expression, Gavin confirmed: “I managed to set up a field around the fire to contain it enough so the neighbors would be safe. We had already cleared everything out. He originally intended to come to Trivium so he could find out where the affliction had come from. I came here anyway, hoping I could find out…something.”
“I think you did.” I swiped at the bandages on my eyes, wishing in that instant to tear them off. Instead, what I felt was numbness. “Find out something, that is.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” For just a moment his calm, impassive exterior cracked and hinted at his own suffered misfortunes and suffering.
“Whoever did this isn’t just out to kill gods,” I responded. “The magoi are fair game, too.”
“The Doctor sees all the weakness of mankind; the lawyer the wickedness; the theologian all the stupidity.”
—Schopenhauer
“”Destiny was invented by those afraid of their own thoughts.”
—Joy Hansen
rEvolve: 3
What we have learned:
Humanity must make sense of chaos. Our ancient, pre-human ancestors most assuredly began the fascination with counting—for it put order to the chaos. While it did little to keep out the darkness, it made sense of the world they observed. Our human ancestors continued, but never fully realized the powers of numbers, or that numbers could, in fact, lend themselves to keeping the dark at bay; even fashioning a world greater than what was then capable of men to perceive.
The poet, Ovid, tells us that mankind alone is the sole creature able to lift its neck to the sky and worship the gods. Though, long before our ancestors were able to conceptualize the gods and worship, they were looking to the skies in wondrous admiration. The first counters were also inclined to count the stars, but the numbers grew too large and the counters grew too weary. Their children counted, and their children too. None could number the stars.
As that first human-like species gave way to ours, we lifted our necks to continue that tradition. We counted and were stymied and gave credit to the gods and continued worshipping them. Another 100 millennia passed and these humans’ dissatisfaction with being unable to
Where did Tolliver receive the notion to look in my vault for his method of coercion? “Gavin, who gave him that idea? To force Apollo to hill him?”
“It was his…idea?” He hesitated, realizing that there was no possible way the idea originated from Donald Tolliver.
I never knew Apollo, but an old god past his prime would have seen through a trap, surely? “So, someone came in, killed Tolliver and then used the pyramid to kill Apollo?”
“Yeah. Exactly, really. I was downstairs, helping to set the trap when…” he explained.
I interrupted: “Wait—you guys actually planned to, like, bind him there? No way that would have worked,” I demurred.
“Well, never even got the chance to try. By the time I got up the stairs, both Tolliver’s and the god’s body were engulfed in flame. There was this stench of something I’ve never smelled. Chemicals or something.” The car decelerated and came to a halt. Gavin put the car into park.
“So, Tolliver’s killer came, killed the only witness—your master—then ran the pyramid through the distracted Apollo. The pyramid seems to be the prize the murderer was after all along.” I clenched my hands. There was something about staring off into the blank blackness of my eyes that helped me to arrange the facts more quickly than I would have otherwise. “Then he set the blaze. Some sort of chemical fire to dissolve the bodies, I’m guessing?”
A chemical fire would explain how it repudiated the water I sent into the bubble that kept it from spreading.
Whether or not he could read my expression, Gavin confirmed: “I managed to set up a field around the fire to contain it enough so the neighbors would be safe. We had already cleared everything out. He originally intended to come to Trivium so he could find out where the affliction had come from. I came here anyway, hoping I could find out…something.”
“I think you did.” I swiped at the bandages on my eyes, wishing in that instant to tear them off. Instead, what I felt was numbness. “Find out something, that is.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” For just a moment his calm, impassive exterior cracked and hinted at his own suffered misfortunes and suffering.
“Whoever did this isn’t just out to kill gods,” I responded. “The magoi are fair game, too.”
“The Doctor sees all the weakness of mankind; the lawyer the wickedness; the theologian all the stupidity.”
—Schopenhauer
“”Destiny was invented by those afraid of their own thoughts.”
—Joy Hansen
rEvolve: 3
What we have learned:
Humanity must make sense of chaos. Our ancient, pre-human ancestors most assuredly began the fascination with counting—for it put order to the chaos. While it did little to keep out the darkness, it made sense of the world they observed. Our human ancestors continued, but never fully realized the powers of numbers, or that numbers could, in fact, lend themselves to keeping the dark at bay; even fashioning a world greater than what was then capable of men to perceive.
The poet, Ovid, tells us that mankind alone is the sole creature able to lift its neck to the sky and worship the gods. Though, long before our ancestors were able to conceptualize the gods and worship, they were looking to the skies in wondrous admiration. The first counters were also inclined to count the stars, but the numbers grew too large and the counters grew too weary. Their children counted, and their children too. None could number the stars.
As that first human-like species gave way to ours, we lifted our necks to continue that tradition. We counted and were stymied and gave credit to the gods and continued worshipping them. Another 100 millennia passed and these humans’ dissatisfaction with being unable to
Similar Books
