Mightiest of Swords (The Inkwell Trilogy Book 1) by Aaron Buchanan Page A
Authors: Aaron Buchanan
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count the stars never ceased; even more, they yearned to touch them and dreamed of one day reaching them.
This desire angered the gods. Again, the gods misunderstood humanity. Men had already harnessed the powers of words, but it was the distance between men—not the gods, not some magnificent tower—that hindered humans from understanding each other. Despite humanity’s lack of communication, the numbers enhanced their lives. And the numbers alarmed the gods. Humans used numbers to build and still found time to observe those stars that could not be counted, and hoped that one day the deed would yet be accomplished.
The gods saw that they could press this skill of humans into something for their own purposes. The gods claimed to reveal the secrets of numbers (which were not, by then, secrets at all) and turned men to their advantage: build us temples and we will build you civilizations .
Men built and built and they honored the gods—but so too men. The Great Pyramid of Cheops, that most enduring of human temples, was built for a man who was made god. The gods forbade this. The centuries were used to count; to build. Stars were observed, days were counted; temples and palaces and empires all were built. Numbers played an indispensable role in this . Whereas humanity learned to tap the power of words, we eventually grew to harness the power of numbers too. Temples were not just built and dedicated to gods for the first time in millennia. Temples were built to men and to women; to knowledge. Numbers helped man build bridges both literal and figurative. The numbers also helped to bring water to their cities and even give them food.
As civilization grew to modernity, the stars were still not fully reckoned, but our species reached into the very heavens themselves. And there we found no gods waiting for us like we were told. The gods themselves could never reach the heavens.
“From where has this illusion of yours appeared in this moment of crisis? This is not befitting honorable men, nor conducive to the attainment of heavenly spheres and is the cause of infamy.”
—The Bhagavad Gita, Book 2, Verse 2
Chapter 7
I begrudgingly slept in Gavin’s motel room in Athens. The sleep was not the least bit restful, as I awoke often to any noise and was further startled when each time I came to, I was unable to see my environs. The beds were uncomfortable and the smells of must and rot were pronounced. It occurred to me that it might be a boon to not be able to see the place, especially in the dark of night. Meanwhile, my dreams cycled through various moments of the preceding night, though in the dream I had no problems with vision and could see preternaturally. I saw the trivium as I approached it and performed the logomancy at the monument. But instead of being attacked by a stranger with a rifle, Joy’s father and my father both appeared out of nowhere to reprove us. I pleaded with my dad to stop yelling at me and just explain what was going on and why he had been murdered. Instead, the apparition of my dad grew apoplectic and began beating Joy senselessly. I awoke when Joy’s own father grabbed her head and slammed it against the marble of the pyramid at the center of the trivium.
Graciously, Gavin said nothing about my fitful sleep or the screams that accompanied it.
“I got you a cinnamon bun and some coffee from the gas station across the street.” I felt the nudging of a paper bag against my shoulder. “The coffee is on the night stand next to you.”
I fumbled around; feeling for the coffee, but knocked it to the floor. “Shit!”
“Oh. Well, there was your coffee.”
“Sorry,” I apologized.
“It’s all right. I’ll get you another. It was a small. You might want the large.” Gavin omitted the words after last night , but he didn’t need to. The three words hung in the air like an ellipsis. “I’ll go. You think about what your next move is going
This desire angered the gods. Again, the gods misunderstood humanity. Men had already harnessed the powers of words, but it was the distance between men—not the gods, not some magnificent tower—that hindered humans from understanding each other. Despite humanity’s lack of communication, the numbers enhanced their lives. And the numbers alarmed the gods. Humans used numbers to build and still found time to observe those stars that could not be counted, and hoped that one day the deed would yet be accomplished.
The gods saw that they could press this skill of humans into something for their own purposes. The gods claimed to reveal the secrets of numbers (which were not, by then, secrets at all) and turned men to their advantage: build us temples and we will build you civilizations .
Men built and built and they honored the gods—but so too men. The Great Pyramid of Cheops, that most enduring of human temples, was built for a man who was made god. The gods forbade this. The centuries were used to count; to build. Stars were observed, days were counted; temples and palaces and empires all were built. Numbers played an indispensable role in this . Whereas humanity learned to tap the power of words, we eventually grew to harness the power of numbers too. Temples were not just built and dedicated to gods for the first time in millennia. Temples were built to men and to women; to knowledge. Numbers helped man build bridges both literal and figurative. The numbers also helped to bring water to their cities and even give them food.
As civilization grew to modernity, the stars were still not fully reckoned, but our species reached into the very heavens themselves. And there we found no gods waiting for us like we were told. The gods themselves could never reach the heavens.
“From where has this illusion of yours appeared in this moment of crisis? This is not befitting honorable men, nor conducive to the attainment of heavenly spheres and is the cause of infamy.”
—The Bhagavad Gita, Book 2, Verse 2
Chapter 7
I begrudgingly slept in Gavin’s motel room in Athens. The sleep was not the least bit restful, as I awoke often to any noise and was further startled when each time I came to, I was unable to see my environs. The beds were uncomfortable and the smells of must and rot were pronounced. It occurred to me that it might be a boon to not be able to see the place, especially in the dark of night. Meanwhile, my dreams cycled through various moments of the preceding night, though in the dream I had no problems with vision and could see preternaturally. I saw the trivium as I approached it and performed the logomancy at the monument. But instead of being attacked by a stranger with a rifle, Joy’s father and my father both appeared out of nowhere to reprove us. I pleaded with my dad to stop yelling at me and just explain what was going on and why he had been murdered. Instead, the apparition of my dad grew apoplectic and began beating Joy senselessly. I awoke when Joy’s own father grabbed her head and slammed it against the marble of the pyramid at the center of the trivium.
Graciously, Gavin said nothing about my fitful sleep or the screams that accompanied it.
“I got you a cinnamon bun and some coffee from the gas station across the street.” I felt the nudging of a paper bag against my shoulder. “The coffee is on the night stand next to you.”
I fumbled around; feeling for the coffee, but knocked it to the floor. “Shit!”
“Oh. Well, there was your coffee.”
“Sorry,” I apologized.
“It’s all right. I’ll get you another. It was a small. You might want the large.” Gavin omitted the words after last night , but he didn’t need to. The three words hung in the air like an ellipsis. “I’ll go. You think about what your next move is going
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