210God of Nothing, chapter 76
Plain Honest Fear
Niu had been unconcerned with the whole situation.
Certainly the body that he had chosen-been forced-to inhabit wasn't the most . . . comfortable of territories, but the god told himself that it was a temporary inconvenience. Unfortunately, it had become even more of an inconvenience than even he could have expected.
The body was that of a daemon-a combination of both a god and a human-and with Niu's own form unexpectedly weak and useless, the half-breed's form had seemed like a suitable retreat at the time. It had come with an almost familiar feeling of unharnessed-or perhaps poorly-harnessed-strength, but it had also come with things far less familiar to the god. Things such as pain, which was something that Niu had dealt with very little, unless he himself was inflicting it upon others. Oh, he knew well the effects of pain, but he had never expected to encounter it so fully. But it wasn't the physical pain that was the worst of it. The physical pain he could handle. It was the emotional pain that hit him hardest of all.
And worst of all, he couldn't shake it off.
The daemon-boy-whose body he had commandeered was more of a forceful personality than Niu could have guessed. The god, despite it all, was finding it difficult to distinguish one emotion from another-one soul's pain from another soul's anger. Sometimes he wasn't even sure anymore just who was feeling what, and his actions until now had shown it.
Hesitation. Uncertainty. Regret?
Niu hadn't the emotional strength to fight back the rush of feelings that had swamped him. At least he hadn't been able to control them with any consistency. And he had, for some time, retreated.
Retreat? What a thing for a god to do. But he had done it, if only temporarily, and only enough to try to quell the bombardment of emotions. But it had been enough to let himself be dragged, unnoticing, to a hastily repaired runic circle. Enough to find himself surrounded by the activated circle- a weak attempt-and enough to be slightly unsure of what was being tried.
But not enough to drown out the voice that shouted somewhere in the recesses of his mind. A voice that should have been silenced when he had first taken over the body he was in. A voice that carried with it confusing yet strong emotions. The god didn't hear the words, but he certainly felt them.
Niu had been unconcerned with the situation.
But just now the god was feeling a little bit . . . uneasy. The spell surrounding him wasn't really worrying-really-but the nagging tug of magic was disconcertingly familiar. It brought back memories. No god liked to be summoned. No god liked to be played with like a meaningless and powerless toy. And worse yet, the tugging was growing stronger with every completed-repeated-word of the spell that was being spoken. It tugged and prodded, and pulled at him remorselessly. It wouldn't be shrugged off, and it refused to give in to his will. It had already progressed too far to be thrown off so easily.
A sharp pang of remorse-not his own, surely-hit him as he loosed a powerful spell at the young woman who was the cause of the magical nagging. The attack passed easily through the magical barrier-it was not one of protection, or containment-and the young woman never opened her eyes to see it coming. Not that she would have been able to avoid it, even if she had. It was too close, too fast, too strong, and unerringly accurate. The remorse turned to worry-again not his own-for a fleeting moment.
A moment was all it took for the god's world to begin to crumble.
Niu's attack never made it to Siran. Something only just visible in the darkness stood between it and her. Something dark, and strong enough to hold off the blast . . . but not strong enough to keep from breaking under the force.
Daegal made a small sound as his strongest method of protection crumbled under the god's attack. The barrier had never really been meant to hold off any sort of magical attack-after all, shades had little need of such a thing-especially the attack of a god, but the shield had served its purpose nonetheless. Unfortunately, it had barely served, and while Daegal was little prepared to rouse any sort of dark defense once again, Niu was at no such a loss.
The god tossed another attack his way.
This time Daegal took the blow full in the chest. The sheer force of the impact settled on him a fleeting moment before the flaring pain. He should have expected the pain. After all, the god's attacks, while less than flashy in appearance and method, logically stood to have more power behind them than anything else he had encountered. While magic was largely ineffective against his kind, Daegal was finding out the hard way that even invulnerability didn't preclude the pain of a strong blow. But there was one consolation. Had the shade been anything but what he was, he would have been dead instead of merely uncomfortable.
Perhaps 'uncomfortable' was an understatement.
Daegal couldn't stop the staggering steps back that had been forced by the blow, even though his mind told him that backing into Siran and interrupting her continuous stream of spell weaving could prove disastrous. For a brief moment he regretted stepping out to defend the young woman. Sure, things held the slightest hint of promise at the time. The god was wrapped up in a spell that the shade himself had constructed with the creative use of destruction, and with the very intention that the circle was being put to. But he hadn't planned on playing hero. It would utterly destroy his reputation. And now his staggering steps were threatening to disrupt the very thing that he had attempted to save.
Strong hands pulled him roughly aside before he collided with the oblivious young woman.
"Don't think that your save isn't appreciated," came Jabari's familiar growl, "but that was a little close for comfort."
For a moment the shade merely frowned, and rubbed idly at the lingering pain in his chest that announced where the god's attack had connected. When he did respond, it was with nothing more than a curt, "Quite." A little close for comfort indeed. The werewolf certainly seemed to have mastered the art of understatement.
"I don't mean to intrude," a slightly pinched voice spoke up, the Felan managing to convey the fact that despite his words he did, in fact, mean to intrude, "but I don't think things are working in our favor here."
For a brief moment Daegal glanced Namir's way, noting the manner in which the Felan pinched the bridge of his nose, and the small smear of blood that colored his lower features. The effects were of a punch thrown by Jabari, which Daegal had been slightly annoyed to witness-conflict among those who should have been working together. It was little comfort to know that, judging by the fact that the Felan didn't seem to be in too much discomfort, it would seem that the werewolf had held back on the force behind the blow.
But the shade quickly turned his attention to where he knew that it was meant to be drawn. Within the active transport circle Niu had lain one hand alongside his head, suggesting that despite all odds he was the victim of a painful headache. That the headache was in fact Aphrael forcing upon the god more confusing emotion than Niu could handle was of course unknown to any of the individuals watching. However, despite the evident discomfort, Niu was moving away from the center of the circle. The god was moving slowly, but deliberately, toward the outer edge of the runic spell. The god, Daegal realized, had no further intentions of sticking around.
"Siran doesn't have the force necessary to keep the god within the circle with words alone," Namir spoke again, his words quick and slightly muffled behind his hand. "I think it's pretty possible that Niu's feeling the effects of the spell though, which would explain the sudden attack and desire to escape. With more time, this could work, assuming that Siran can keep going. We just have to convince Niu to stay put."
The Felan's words caused Daegal to cast the young woman in question a quick glance. The words were still coming with careful precision, but the tone in which she spoke them was not so carefully guarded. She sounded weary, and slightly hoarse. Even in the darkness he could see that tears stained her face, and he was certain that anyone could hear the shortness of breath that lingered about her words. The spell was taking more than she had ever had to give, and he doubted that she was without the pain of the trial.
It was Jabari who spoke up to Namir's words, with a slightly growled, "And how would you suggest we make the god sit down and play nice?"
Namir flashed the werewolf a toothy grin-followed by a slight wince at the pain that the expression had produced. "Who said anything about playing nice?" he retorted.
The Felan moved his hand and fingers in a motion that had become somewhat familiar to Jabari by now, but when the motion produced no immediate result, the werewolf couldn't help but wonder if Namir's movements had really been what he thought they were. Any other time the werewolf had seen Namir make a motion like that, the strange, dog-like creature that the Felan claimed as a 'friend' had come running. But now there was nothing. No movement but the determined shuffle of the god's slow steps. Certainly no cavalry could be heard rushing in.
Namir's small frown did nothing to reassure Jabari.
Niu had moved as close to the outer circle of runes as he could possibly get without actually causing any of his body to cross the line. There he paused-savoring the moment, or hesitating?-before slowly reaching out a hand. For the briefest of moments it seemed that the god's hand might very well be halted, unable to pass the outer edge of the circle, but the brief lack of motion was of the god's own devising and lasted for only a heart-stopping instant. Then Niu's hand passed easily through the range of the spell, and the god grinned.
Nearby, Siran's voice came out audibly more strained.
Jabari cast a half-panicked glance about him, searching perhaps for something with which to keep the god from moving further, or looking maybe for a reassuring glance from one of the others around him. Unfortunately, his gaze came to rest upon neither. Namir, in fact, was casting a similarly worried glance around, searching their surroundings hopefully, and Daegal looked as though he might be considering the benefits of disappearing completely before things got any worse.
With a confidence that was far more than unnerving to those watching, Niu took one deliberate step over the outer circle of the runic spell that surrounded him. If he felt anything as his body crossed the flickering barrier, his features didn't show it. His blank, staring eyes showed nothing at all, in fact, and were quite untouched by the toothy grin that turned the corners of his mouth.
Siran's voice faltered for a fleeting moment.
With one foot outside the circle, Niu hesitated-stumbled-and wavered uncertainly. One hand was pressed suddenly to the side of his now-lowered head, the other was clenched tightly in a fist. For a brief moment the god didn't move, and didn't seem to be paying any attention to his surroundings. It shouldn't have been a problem. He saw nothing around him that was worthy of his concern. However, had he not been assailed by a constant, emotional shouting in the back of his mind, he might have heard something worthy of his attention.
Something was approaching. Quickly. And unmoving, Niu was an easy target.
A dark, canine shape sped into the clearing, leaping forward with the speed and confidence that the god seemed to be momentarily lacking. Behind the creature was another shape, this one more feline in form-Ducky, most surely-but it was only the canine that leapt toward the hesitating god. Niu hadn't the presence of mind to avoid the attack, and the animal's sheer force of movement caused the god to tumble backwards, landing heavily back within the confines of the runic circle.
Despite having the god returned to within the spell's limits, Siran's voice seemed to strain even further. Within the circle there was simply too much for the young woman to handle alone-too much power now, battling for dominance.
As the canine creature fought to close its jaws on Niu's throat, the god was finally realizing the need to fight back. Niu raised a hand, and the canine knew enough to understand the threat. He didn't, however, back down. Somewhere along the line blood had been drawn, and a half-crazed, animalistic mentality was clouding over any more rational thought that the creature might usually succumb to. It pressed its attack, and Niu responded with one of his own.
It was an animal howl of pain that heralded the end of the surprisingly brief confrontation. The dark canine landed outside the circle, rolled briefly over the rough stone, and lay disturbingly still.
Within the circle Niu raised himself to his hands and knees, and his gaze turned unerringly toward the others who stood transfixed by the short and decisive battle. The god's features were suddenly more frightening than they ever had been before; the emotions that had finally made their way to the surface contorted the god's face into an expression that could chill the blood of the stoutest man. For the first time, Aphrael's emotional screams fell on deaf ears, and Niu felt no emotions but his own. Rage. Hatred. Indignation.
Then Siran's voice reached Niu's ears, reciting still the spell meant to rid them of him, and for the first time in the god's memory, her tone was clear and strong.
For the first time the god felt fear. His own fear. It was plain and honest, and he didn't like it. It was a weak emotion, and he crushed it with a single thought: God's don't feel fear.
But whether or not Niu feared his future didn't matter in the least. The transport circle flared strongly, with or without the god's fear. The sudden light forced the onlookers to turn away from the god's murderous features, and by the time the light faded enough to allow them to see, there was little left to be seen. There were no angry features, no hateful stares, and certainly no fear.
There was just a body.
Aphrael's form looked somehow diminished, laying half curled in the midst of the circle in an almost defensive posture, his face hidden behind one of his arms.
His form was frightfully still.