Six days out…
I’m a god.
I’m not much of a god, mind you.
Unkind immortals might even suggest that I am useless.
Speaking of unkind immortals, here is that smug, little miss perfect, Aine, wandering past.
“Oi… Raffe. I hear I’m up against you next week. You drew the short straw, huh? I’m gunna flay your sorry hide in every round!”
“Yeah… brilliant sledge, Ai. Save your trash talking for the tournament. I’m busy… so piss off.”
Aine sticks her pert and pretty freckled goddess nose into the air, flicks her cascade of shiny black hair over her sculpted amber shoulder, then continues her superior stroll down Holy Road.
If I were one of the Olympian gods… a child of Zeus and Hera… I wouldn’t make the cut. I’d be banned from Mt Olympus. Not as smart as Apollo. Not as wise as Athena. Not as tough or brave as Ares. Not clever with my hands like Hephaestus. Not everyone’s favourite spunkrat like Aphrodite. Good thing I’m not a Greek god. There’s almost nothing that I do particularly well.
Well, there is one thing that I excel at… but let’s not go into that.
Luckily for me, I was born into an obscure pantheon from an obscure culture where gods of limited talent live out their immortal lives without too much harassment from gifted immortals and demanding worshipful humans. Well, that was until recently.
Any of you who grew up in a monotheistic world will be horrified to learn that there are hundreds of gods where I come from. If we keep breeding at our current rate, it won’t be long until there are almost as many gods as there are mortals. That’s why the humans have decided to instigate a cull.
A cull?
That’s right! It’s not as difficult as it sounds.
True. Immortals can’t be shot with arrows or guns. You can’t drown us. Or bash us. Attempts to stab us are pointless. Strangulation is a waste of time. You could try shoving us into a bathtub full of electric eels, but believe me, that isn’t going to do the trick either. Poison won’t work. Fire is useless. You can even try a nuclear blast, but that’s not going to get the job done. The thing is… we are immortal! Can’t be killed.
But we can be gotten rid of!
The one way that a god… an immortal… can be wiped out is if the humans (punters, yobbos, or mortals as we call them) stop worshipping them. So culling is indeed possible. Actually, it’s more than possible. It’s easy. Tear down a god’s temple, stop praying to them, stop celebrating them at feasts, festivals, and sporting contests, and presto, that poor divine bugger simply fizzles away. Adios. Kaput!
It’s cruel, but effective. Don’t ask your favourite deity for a lovely girlfriend, for an expensive car, or for a nasty infection to clear up and that god will slowly fade away before your eyes. When you get around to calling a stay on your plans to pop Fluffy, the family pet, onto the sacrificial pyre, in the divine one’s honour, that’s it. Finito!
The pesky human high priests put their heads together and came up with a rather sensible plan. A plan to get rid of a sizable proportion of us gods. All they need to do is stop worshipping the duds, like me, then the useful gods (the powerful divine beings) will be the only ones left! Think of the savings on church construction and useless sacrifices. What a joy for the yobbos to be able to cut back on all the wailing, arm waving, and singing of silly songs of praise.
Heaven and earth will be a better place once redundant gods are done away with. Only one problem. I can’t say that I blame them, but when the body of faithful humans got together to come up with their wish-list of deities to be dumped, they included me!
We immortals have only got ourselves to blame. Our control over our carnal instincts has been pathetic. It’s been going on for centuries. The merest hint of someone with lovely eyes, arresting curves or a cute smile and the gods crumble. It doesn’t matter if the someone is female, male, god, mortal, nymph, supernatural being, animal, or even attractive plant, immortals think that it is their divine right to impregnate the desired loved-one. Hence our current population explosion.
O-oh. Here comes Dad. Wonder what he wants. Full of good news, no doubt.
“Oh God of the Mountains and Valleys… Master of the Divine Claws and Snout… he who rules over the beasts of the forest… how ya going Dad?”
“Don’t ‘Dad’ me, you little half-wit. It’s Lord Beast to you. I’ve been doing a bit of research on your behalf. I’ve been down to Earth and had a chat with the priests about the… ah, tournament. The rules. It’s fifty nominated potential cast-offs against fifty high-status, junior deities. Three round contests. One minute per round. Any nominees who win… are saved. Losers are deus expulses est. You’ve heard that you’ve drawn Aine, right? Great work kid. I’ll give you exactly five seconds.”
“Great Lord with Big Yellow Teeth… she’s not that good,” I reply, not attempting to disguise my disgust at his lack of faith in me”.
“Not that good?” my father responds, not attempting to disguise his contempt for his eldest son. “When was the last time you single-handedly slaughtered a pack of two-headed wolf demons – saving an entire village? She did. Two weeks ago. Aine is the best new recruit in the whole pantheon. You’d struggle to stop a bad-tempered rooster from stealing a cookie from a munchkin. Look, Raf. You’ve had a good run. Be grateful for the time that you’ve had here in Takama City. There isn’t any point in keeping up false hopes. Besides… punters not worshipping you anymore is not so bad. Think of it as an early retirement. Just one thing, though. For the sake of your Mum… and the whole family – try not to embarrass us too much.”
“At least the humans get to experience ‘the other place’ after they shuffle off, Pa. What I get is non-existence – ignored into eternal oblivion. You don’t find that cruel?”
“Don’t call me Pa! Cruel? Not cruel at all. You can’t be suffering if you don’t exist. What use are you? You don’t even have a wyrd as far as I can tell. A god’s gotta have a wyrd. Since the day I was born, I have been the Great Hairy Beast that keeps nature in balance. The punters pray to me to… you know… to do stuff. To protect them from demons and animals that bite. I don’t always co-operate, of course, but that’s my prerogative. I’m a god! I’ve got important stuff to do. Can’t be wasting my time answering prayers all day. Your mum’s wyrd is art, and beauty! Where would the drop-kicks be without her to pray to. Mik, your brother. God of combat and brawling! Now there is a kid that has impact.”
There’s no point in riling up the old fly-blown bastard, so I don’t bother to respond to his taunt about my superior sibling. The thing is, I think the world of Mik… and love the bad-tempered bugger to bits… but my baby bro has the IQ of an earth worm.
“I have a wyrd. It’s just taking time to show itself. That nerdy little bloke I was mates with at the Deity Seminary with… you know… Kari? Everybody thought he was useless until he came up with fire and gave it to the punters. Late bloomer. God of science and gambling no less!”
Dad sniffs dismissively and wipes his enormous, clawed, hand under his distended, slimy, scabby, nose.
“Kari is a ratty little smart-arse! No good will come from that fire thing. It’s against nature! For an old school mate he didn’t do you any favours, mate. He ran the tournament draw with the punter’s high priests and priestesses. He was the one who matched you up with Aine! Oi vey! Aine! Well, I can’t hang around here jawing all day. I’ve got god stuff to do. Just make sure you put on a good show… and no snivelling when you lose. We’ll all be there to, ah… cheer you on.”
My foul-smelling father wanders off down Holy Road growling to himself about how unfair it is that superior genes can beget inept progeny.
I am left wondering why the punters don’t do away with all of us immortals? What use are we? We swan around in heaven demanding followers to spend their lives on their knees praising us for creating then dominating over a cruel and flawed world? And gods like my Dad? Well, even when the punters grovel to him, just as he demands, he gives bugger all back. It doesn’t make sense.
“Seeya Pops,” I call out to his hunched-over, retreating, furry, back.
“Don’t call me Pops,” he grunts. “Late bloomer… my arse. You’re an idiot.”
Three days out…
What does a mediocre god do three days out from their scheduled permanent erasure? Live it up, of course. I take a stroll on a wild and snowy volcano and top it off with a dip in a steaming summit hot-spring to settle my nerves. After my mighty climb I strip off my godly garments, place them in the pool-side ornate timber storage chest, trudge a step or two through the deep snow that surrounds the pond and dive into the steaming, honey-coloured, mineral-rich water.
Ahh!
I hear a noise on the wooded path that leads to the pond. Damn. I’m not alone on the mountain. Of all the gods in heaven, who could this be coming to interrupt my brief moments of solitude and peace?
“Hello, Aine… fancy meeting you all the way up here. Did you follow me? Come to taunt your victim?”
“Nothing could be further from the truth, Raffe. I often come here before combat. It’s one of my favourite places. It helps me to prepare mentally. Though… no offence… I don’t think I’m going to need much preparation for this battle.”
Aine slips off her leather sandals, removes her silver activewear, places them gently next to my robes in the storage chest, then languidly slips into the water.
“You said no gloating, Ai… Great Goddess of the Dawn, Exploration, and Great Quests.”
“Sorry Raf… just being realistic. And dispense with the silly formal titles. We’ve known each other since baby-God School. It’s a shame, you know. A real shame.”
“Shame? What’s a shame?”
“This extinction thing you have coming up. It’s sad. At risk of being the goddess of bad puns, Raffy-boy, you are kinda cute… in a raffish kinda way. So it’s a shame that I have to off you.”
“Holy gods above and below, Ai – the last thing I need is a flirty executioner.”
“I don’t know quite what it is. You’re a bit weird. Eccentric, I guess. I like that. I love your scruffy ginger mop. Not many blokes can pull off red hair. I like that you keep smiling and joking despite having a bullying, loud-mouthed, father. I even like it that you are a bit of a smart-arse. You’re an interesting fella. I’d genuinely like to get to know you better… to hear you talk about yourself and other stuff. To find out what makes you tick. So… it’s a shame. Oh, by the way… as the challenger, you get to choose the contests? Is it a secret, or can you tell me what you have in mind for our bout?”
“I was thinking archery in the first round, Ai. Running, in the second. And I thought that we’d finish off with wrestling. I know you’re good at all three but, who knows. I’m a gambler. Maybe you’ll have an off day.”
“That’s the spirit, Raf! We’ll put on a show that every numbskull immortal will remember for eternity.”
“Yeah… let’s!” I reply.
One day out…
On the day before the “Deity Elimination Tournament” I am looking down from Takama and I spy a priest nailing the schedule of events onto the gate of the Games Arena. Where am I? Nowhere near the top of the list, of course. I didn’t expect to be on Centre Court – or even on Courts 2 or 3. Ah… there I am. Raffe versus Aine. Eleven o’clock. Court 17. What? Court 17? I knew I’d be on an outside court, but Court 17? That’s downright insulting! I’m not even sure that Court 17 has seating for spectators. Hmm. So unloved. Apparently, no one thinks I am worth watching.
When they remove my name from the list of deities in the holy book… when they knock down my seedy shrines… and when they transfer the dozen or so members of my worthless cult to a larger, equally worthless cult, I wonder how long it take for me to fade away?
The big day…
Aine and I walk onto the Court 17 stage where we are greeted by a beautiful but serious-looking priestess wearing scarlet robes.
“My name is Adoni,” says the woman holding out her hand for us to shake. “I will be your celebrant, and sole referee. May the Gods be with you.”
While the priestess performs required pre-match rituals in the games area some of my family (though I can’t see Dad yet), some of my cult members, and a smattering of Aine’s and my friends amble into the standing-room-only viewing area at the side of the stage. The spectators who have honoured us with their presence wear I hope the event doesn’t take too long expressions. I guess they have better places to be and more important things to do.
“Round 1 – The challenger, Raffe, has chosen archery,” abruptly declares the priestess, clearly wanting to get things going… and over with as quickly as possible. “You have one minute to score as many bull’s-eyes as you can. You have unlimited arrows. Take your places behind the line. Take your bows. Are you ready? Shake hands. Your time starts… now!”
Initially, the crowd are deathly quiet as Aine, and I load and launch arrow after arrow as quickly as we dare. As arrows, from both of us, thwack heavily into our targets, I can hear friends, family and followers begin to bellow support.
After precisely 60 seconds Adoni whistles time on Round 1. Aine shoots twenty-eight bull’s-eyes. That’s 100%. I shoot twenty-four. That’s good. Much better than anyone expected of me. My friends hoot and whistle in surprise. Dad, who has finally turned up, claps politely. Mum blows me a kiss but is looking anxious. The priestess declares the first round to Aine. I’m in trouble.
Aine and I stare into each other’s eyes during the allocated five-minute rest period. The gathered audience murmur nervously.
“Round 2 – is running,” says the lady in red, suddenly. “You will race up and down the court, end to end, for one minute. The whole of one foot must completely cross each end-line to score a length. Is that understood?”
We both nod.
“The contestant leading, when I call time, will be declared winner of the round”, says Adoni. “Prepare yourselves. Are you ready…? Go!””
Initially we are neck and neck. Maybe I am even edging in front a tiny bit around the thirty second mark. Then we are even again.
Oooff… bloody hell. She just elbowed me in the gut! That hurt. Nice, Ai. Thanks.
I grit my teeth and keep up with her for forty-five seconds, but she draws away in the final seconds leaving me with eleven and a half ends. Aine has run twelve! Again, I have exceeded expectations, but not enough to prevent Aine from taking a 2 – 0 lead. I might be screwed. While Mum is looking distressed, Dad is smiling and chatting with a pretty young goddess with protruding breasts who is standing behind him.
“Aine failed to complete one of her lengths correctly,” declares the judge while holding the red penalty flag in the air. “Three-length penalty against Aine! I declare Raffe winner of the round. The contestants are tied… one round each.”
My dad suddenly turns pale and looks like he is having heart issues. Odd, given that he doesn’t have a heart. The spectators are showing intense interest now and are making plenty of noise! Aine is shaking a fist and yelling at the priestess, who’s face is turning the colour of her gown as she silently stares down the furious goddess.
Again Aine and I glare intently at each other as the crowd noise reduces to soft muttering in anticipation of the deciding round.
“Round 3! Challenger Raffe has chosen wrestling for the final round,” announces Adoni. “In the event of neither contestant successfully pinning the other, I will decide on the victor based on the DAG (divine athlete games) points scoring system. Are you ready, contestants? Aine?
Aine growls and nods to the judge then nonchalantly strolls to within arm’s reach of me.
“Challenger Raff?”
I slowly dip my head.
“Grapple!”
Over fifty seconds Aine throws me, gets me in a headlock, twists me in every direction, squeezes me in a brutal bear hug… but fails to pin me to the ground. She must be way ahead on DAG points. Suddenly, one of her sandal straps snaps, throwing her off balance momentarily. I react with the speed of a half-cat. As she staggers, I launch myself at her and tackle her around the waist. When she hits the stage floor, my right shoulder buries itself into her belly. I hear her grunt in pain. Taking advantage of her brief winding I roll her over and pin her shoulders to the floor for just a moment.
With less than a second remaining in the match, the priestess shouts “Successful pin, challenger Raffe!”
I win! Initial deathly silence from the spectator area is quickly replaced by gasps of shock then hoots, whistles, and screams of delight from most watching. Pops doesn’t look too thrilled, though. In fact, he appears to be frothing at the mouth and quivering with fury.
One day later…
“What an effort… what a team,” I proclaim as four silver goblets clink together sloshing golden nectar into the steaming brown water. “You saved my immortal life. I love you all!”
Adoni, Kari, Aine and I are lounging in my favourite volcanic pond surrounded by thick woodlands and high snow-covered mountains. While the steam rising from the water has a sulphurous odour it’s blending with the cold, pine-scented, breeze provides a perfume that soothes my immortal soul.
“I told you Ai is a legend,” says Kari. “I knew that if I got you guys together you’d work something out.”
“And now I get the chance to get to know you better, Lord Scruffy,” purrs the stately junior immortal.
Have I mentioned that Aine is even lovelier without her athletic gear than with it? Her statement of interest in getting to know me better makes me blush maroon. I almost say “Aww…shucks”. I also feel a stirring in the lower regions of my body, fortunately, below the honey-coloured waterline.
“I notice that you’ve brought a pack with you, today, Noble Kaz. I wonder whatever that could be?” asks Aine without bothering to hide a broad grin. “It looks heavy!”
“Yup… I… or should I say we… cleaned up! For our investment of thirty deity-credits each you’ll find over nine-hundred coins in that bag. Half won on the overall result… and a few shekels on the round scores as well,” replied Kari. “I lost a few on the second round. Can’t make it too obvious. You should have seen the look on Snouty’s face when he handed over the cash. I don’t expect you’ll be too popular with your Dad for a while, Raf. And you know what? I don’t think he likes me much, either.”
“Nine hundred credits? Gods above! That’ll knock a hole in his super-god lifestyle for a bit,” I reply. “Sadly, it means he’ll be squeezing the punters for extra donations though. But maybe we can work on that.”
“How did you manage to do that broken sandal trick, Lord Raffe? With only seconds to go! I was freaking out about how you were going to pull off the victory?” asks the youthful priestess who, also, looks stunning when divested of her flowing finery. Willowy, and porcelain unlike the ripped and curvaceous Aine but beautiful, nonetheless. I had no idea mortals could be as lovely as gods. I should have been paying more attention. “In seconds I was going to have to declare Aine the winner!” she adds.
“A master never reveals their secrets, mistress judge Adoni. You were magnificent. Played your role perfectly. You too Aine. What actors. Masterful performances from both of you,” I respond. “I’m excited to get to know you, too, Ai. I’ve always liked you much more than I let on,” I add.
Aine smiles a wicked smile making me suspect that she has an idea that my excitement is not just about getting to know her better. I wonder if one of her immortal gifts is the ability to see through things… including brown water?
“I can’t wait to tell my mates about how I got to slop around in a hot-spring with three gods,” chips in Adoni.
“Ahh… nuh-uh. Sorry Adoni. That’s not a good idea,” I say. “Not a word!”
Adoni slaps herself on the forehead and giggles.
“Oh Gods… der! Of course not. I’m an airhead. It would be excommunication… and execution… for all of us… “ she replies.
“But would you consider going out on a date with a god,” asks Kari looking longingly at the priestess.
I wonder if the company of these enchanting women is having a similar effect on Kari as it is on me?
“I’d love to. I couldn’t imagine anything finer. Happy to take a chance on the Lord of Science, Maths… and Gambling,” replies the priestess.
Aine smiles broadly at Adoni and raises her arms out of the water to applaud what might be signs of a new romance brewing.
“My fatuous father tells me that I can’t be a god if I don’t have a wyrd. I wonder what he is thinking now,” I ask.
“No offence to your beloved Pop, handsome, but the furry old fella is about as sharp as a sack full of wet mice. Wit is not something God of the Wild is well-known for,” says Aine. “I’ll bet he’s still trying to figure out what happened.”
“He still thinks I haven’t got a wyrd, team. Do you think I should tell him?” I ask.
“Are you kidding?” responds Kari. “No. Not in a million years! Let him think you were just lucky.”
“I’m kinda looking for a new role, Lord Raffe,” interjects Adoni. “Do you think your cult… which, given your tournament performance, might be about to go through a period of rapid expansion, could use a new High Priestess?”
“Why, thank you, Your Holiness. I would consider your agreeing to lead my sect a great honour. Lady Adoni, High Priestess to the God of Cheats, Rascals and Storytellers has a nice ring to it, too. I think that with our combined talents… plus with mates like the mighty Kari and the incomparable Aine… we will shift heaven and earth together.”
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