Chapter Twenty-Six - A Knock at the Door

“Your gods are... frankly, a bit pitiful.”

***

The presence of divinity could be felt. It was something that even an untrained peasant could feel, though they might not know what that strange pressure over their back was.

Perhaps I should take a moment to explain what divinity actually is.

It was, at one time, a question that plagued me. I was never one to seek power for power’s sake. I wanted magic, to see and understand the spark that made life and all the wonderful things around me work. Divinity, for the longest time, was something I considered one step removed from the weave, from magic.

After all, what the gods do with their own power can often not be reproduced with magic.

Or so I once thought.

Once my curiosity was piqued and I dissected my first couple of demons and angels in a quest to understand what made them tick, I discovered that divinity wasn’t entirely separate from magic, but was a sort of offshoot of magic.

An animal is an animal and a plant is a plant, but in the end, they both share some similarities and often require some of the same things to function. They rely upon each other.

Such, I found, was the case with the many gods.

Unfortunately some of the gods in my day were displeased at my poking around at their source of power and they tried to do something about it. One thing led to another and by the time I went to sleep the major gods were all gone, the heavens were barren, and the world continued to function, regardless of their presence.

Interestingly enough, I found that magic functioned, at times, across a sort of spectrum. At one end, the magics used by demons and necromancers, at the other clerical magics. But divine magic didn’t fit along that axis. It was magic, but partially separate from normal magics.

Divinity grew stronger, not from habit and practice, but from age and devotion. The more people feared or worshipped someone or something, the more power they could gain from that worship.

That meant that everyday things, like storms and lakes, could gain some small amount of divinity. What counted as worship was also open for debate. Often it just meant constant and frequent use of something, or a fear or that same thing.

Once I learned how to tap into the little bit of divinity aimed my way, I found it rather lacklustre. Sure, it would allow for some things that were difficult to do with normal magic, but it felt unearned.

These gods didn’t work to gain the majority of their power. It was created from power that existed already.

The road leading to the Path to Heaven was a long one, mostly hard-packed dirt, but with the occasional layer of ancient bricks below. We only crossed a few people, most of them wearing very simple garb and carrying large packs on their backs. Supplicants, or perhaps pilgrims.

We never stopped to ask either way.

Eventually we topped a hill and came onto a valley between two mountain ranges. To the north rose huge pillars of stone, some topped by a few tough trees and most of them poking into the low hanging clouds.

To the south a similar mountain range, though this one not quite as impressive.

The valley ran for quite a ways with a river switching back and forth along its middle and, near the base of the northern range, a small village.

“That’s the Heavenly Path,” the limpet said. “I stopped there once. It’s really small.”

I hummed to myself as I eyed the village from afar. It really wasn’t impressive. “What can you tell me about it?”

“Not much? It’s mostly a stop for pilgrims heading up the Path. There are a few small temples, the shared kind, and a lot of inns. But that’s about it. I think the only industry around here is making stuff to sell to the pilgrims.”

“Interesting,” I said for a lack of anything better to say. “Well then, perhaps we should change our disguises? Is there a particular way that the pilgrims dress?”

So far the people we’d crossed had been in simple garb, but I hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice anything special about them.

“That depends,” the limpet said. “Some pilgrims carry symbols of the god they want to meet, others are just here to beg for any sort of help.”

“Do the gods here offer help?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” the limpet said. “Chamomile, the Goddess of Healing, is often by the gates. She’ll heal people for free. But she travels a lot too, so it’s not every day that you’ll see her. The other gods might be around more, but it’s not like you can cross the gates onto the path so easily.”

I nodded along. “I see. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The trip down the valley was quite pleasant. There was a bit of wind keeping the air cool and fresh, and the sun was high overhead and quite bright. The slight incline of the road actually made it easier to walk.

If it wasn’t for the increasingly oppressive weight to the air I might have enjoyed the walk a little more.

The town at the bottom of the Path to Heaven wasn’t much to look at. Some three dozen homes, most with little gardens and a few with fields next to them. The centre of the town was a square surrounded on all sides by inns, and with a little fountain in its middle that seemed misplaced in such a backwater.

There were temples as well, three of them, which seemed off in a place with so few homes.

For all that the place didn’t seem entirely rich, the people we crossed on the streets seemed happy. The locals were smiling and cheerful and the pilgrims had the air of people who had just finished a long journey.

“You mentioned a gate,” I asked the limpet as we arrived in the town’s square. The mountains were quite close, so much so that they towered above the town.

“Yep. It’s that way.” She pointed northwards. “There’s a path and all, with little shrines all along it. You’re supposed to put an offering at each one to open the first gate.”

“And how many gates are there?” I asked.

“Seven. You’re not supposed to be able to go around them at all. Each one needs a donation from one of the temples in each region of the Empire.”

I considered that for a moment. The first gate opened with some meger donations, then the next opened with something from each region. The Empire only had five, which left one last gate. “What do you need for the final gate?” I asked.

“A blessing from the pantheon, I think,” the limpet said. “I don’t know. I went to the first gate when I came here. They say it’s a really good spot for meditating and cultivating, but I just found it hard to breathe.”

I stared at the largest of the mountains, the source of the divine power I was feeling. No, it wasn’t quite the mountain, at least, not just the mountain. There was something above, near the peak. A concentration of divinity in one place.

“Alex,” I said. “Find a nice inn to stay the night. Some place quiet. Take the limpet with you and make sure she's comfortable and such.”

“Master?” the limpet asked.

“I don’t think you can come where I’m going,” I said. “Do keep practicing.”

I stepped past my travelling companions and started on my way north. The town didn’t extend all the way to the base of the mountain, but there was an easily accessible path leading to there and a few young people in monk’s garb were brushing it clean even as I walked by.

I noticed some shrines along the sides of the road. They tended to follow a pattern. A stone base with a statue above it, sometimes with an arch above it to keep away the rain. Little bowls set before them were filled with a random assortment of things, though perhaps calling it random wasn’t correct.

The walk ended when I arrived at a gate. It was a large thing, with two pillars on either side and a door made of what looked like brass over well-worn wood. For all that it looked weak I could sense some power coming from it. Enchantments and divine blessings.

“It will open for you, if you pray to the gods and give them a little something in return for their service,” someone said.

I looked to the side to see an older monk sitting atop a flattened rock.

“Really?” I asked. “And what if I’m not fond of one of the gods?”

“Oh?’ the man asked. ‘Who are we mere mortals to question the gods? Perhaps your lack of fondness is misplaced?”

“Perhaps,” I said. “I’ve only met one of the gods of this era. Maybe some of them aren’t all that bad.”

“Do you need guidance? We of the Heavenly Path sect are always willing to help those looking for enlightenment.”

I had one brow of my illusory face twitch upwards. “There’s a sect here?”

“A small one,” the monk confirmed. “And a peaceful one. We train not to fight, but to better serve. You’ll find no arrogant young masters here, just men and women who want to be closer to the divine.”

I could respect that much. “Interesting. I need to see the gods.”

“Do you really?”

I was going to say ‘yes’ out of hand when I considered it. Did I really need to see the new pantheon? “No, not really. But I am curious. Are these new gods worthy of the title? Will they be a threat to me and mine? How have they grown in the absence of the old pantheon and their ideals? I could go on without knowing, but not knowing something has always been... less than optimal for me. It’s the things I don’t see coming that always foil my plans.”

“Old gods?” the monk asked. “I don’t understand, the gods have stood forever.”

“No, they haven’t. In a way, some gods are more mortal than some men.” I walked up to the gate and pressed a hand to it.

“Knock.”

A loud bang, like an alchemical concoction exploding, echoed out across the region. The monk ‘eeped’ and fell backwards off his rock and the door before me shuddered and creaked open.

The gate was actually rather ingenious. There were no walls around it, and yet I sense that stepping past it without crossing its threshold would set off dozens of arcane traps. Nothing I couldn’t survive or bypass, but that would have been more troublesome than merely unlocking the gate itself.

“Sir!” the monk said. “What did you do?”

“I unlocked the door,” I said. “I’ll be heading up now. It was nice chatting with you.”

The monk jumped to his feet, picked up a staff laying on the ground next to him, and raced over to join me as I crossed past the first gate.

Beyond it was a path made up of hundreds of steps, each one paved and dug out into the ground and leading out into the distance. I started walking.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” the monk said.

“You’ll find that making such assumptions about people will often lead you astray,” I said.

“The gods won’t permit such arrogance.”

“I’m not being arrogant. I’m coming over for a visit. If they didn’t want people to break their gate they should have installed a knocker.”

“The gods will smite you.”

I rolled my eyes. This man was lucky that there were no lakes nearby. “I can handle myself. Now, if you’re going to prattle on next to me, you can at least do so in an informative fashion. Tell me about the local gods.”

“You’re a madman.”

“No, I’m a curious scientist. It’s entirely different.”

***