The Younger Gods

"They're probably close enough now," Longbow agreed. "Do you want to give the order?"

"Why don't you do it?" Kathlak suggested. "Nobody argues with you when you give orders."

"All right," Longbow agreed. Then he took a long breath and shouted, "Shoot!"

The arrows swept out in a vast wave from the top of Gunda's fort, and the front ranks of the advancing enemies toppled like fresh-cut wheat. The piles of dead bug-men were almost like a wall that blocked off the advance of the ones coming up the slope behind those first ranks. Then the horse-soldier Ekial shouted, "Charge!" and his men galloped across the upper end of the slope, killing thousands more of their enemies.

Then there came the sound of a trumpet, and the horse-soldiers pulled back. Two-Hands was just a bit awed by how smoothly things had gone for them. Then the young Trogite called Keselo shouted "Shoot!," but he wasn't talking about arrows. Great gobs of burning pitch came over the front wall of Gunda's fort, and absolute chaos brought the charge of the bug-men to a dead stop as burning bugs ran this way and that through the snow.

"Don't they know that all they have to do to put out those fires is roll around in the snow?" Two-Hands asked Longbow.

"Not really," Longbow replied. "These particular bugs come from a desert, so they probably don't know that snow is just another form of water."

The winter sun was going down off to the west, and it touched the clouds of smoke with light that the smoke made bright red.

"I've always sort of liked sunsets," Gunda said. "The best thing about a sunset is that it means supper-time, and I'm starting to get very hungry."

THE ALTERNATE

Chapter One

Omago's Dream had released his memories of times long past, and now he knew just who—and what—he really was, and that knowledge had shaken him down to his very core.

Now that things were quieter, he felt that the time had come for him to get a better grip on that stunning reality, but he needed to be alone for that. And so, as midnight approached, he went up to the top of the main wall of Gunda's fort at the head of Long-Pass.

The weather was bitterly cold, but it came to Omago from out of the distant past that he was immune to weather—cold or hot—and he had no real need of air to breathe or food to eat. He sent his memory back to the time some thirty years ago when he'd first revealed his plan to Ara.

"It's something we need to know, dear heart," he'd explained. "The minds of the man-things here in the Land of Dhrall are unlike the minds of any of the other creatures here, and I think the best way to find out just why would be to erase all previous memories and live out the life of an ordinary man-thing."

"I don't see any particular value in your plan, Omago," Ara had replied. "A prince or a chieftain might have some knowledge you'd find useful, but the ordinaries have trouble distinguishing night from day."

"They're not really that bad, Ara. Princes and chieftains have very little contact with reality. They spend most of their time trying to avoid reality. I've been considering the life of an ordinary farmer—most probably in the Domain of Veltan of the South."

"Why there, dear heart?"

"Apple-blossoms, Ara," he'd replied. "I think they're the most beautiful flowers I've ever encountered in this world—or any others in this part of the universe. I need beauty, Ara. That's why we've been together for so long. Your beauty has held me captive since the beginning of time when we first added forms to our awareness."

"Flattery won't get you very far, Omago."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that, dear heart," Omago had replied with a sudden smile. Then he'd grown more serious. "There's another reason that I think I should stay close to Veltan. As far as I can determine, he's the best teacher of all the gods. Dahlaine's too busy being important, and Vash and Dakas are just a bit abrupt and not really very bright."

"What's wrong with the females?"

"Males and females don't think alike, Ara. Haven't you ever noticed that? I have a strong feeling that something very important will happen in the Land of Dhrall. The man-things of this world will continue to exist, or will become extinct, because of something that will take place in that obscure part of this world. There's a creature there that wants to obliterate them, and if the man-things are obliterated there, they'll also be eliminated in all parts of this world. I need to find out what that thing is and stop it—or even destroy it, if I have to."

Ara had sighed. "You aren't giving me too much room here, dear heart," she'd accused him. "Go ahead with this game of yours, but I'm not going to let you play alone. I'll be with you, like it or not, and I know who you really are. If you make any serious mistakes, I'll be there, and I'll be able to step in if it's necessary."

"I would miss you, dear heart," Omago confessed.

"Don't worry, Omago. I'll see to it that you don't."

Omago clearly remembered the early years of his alternate identity when Veltan had given the young man a surprisingly complete education. As the young man had grown older, the other farmers of the region had taken to using him as a "messenger-boy" of sorts to convey information to Veltan rather than going up the hill to Veltan's massive house on their own. It wasn't that they were actually afraid of Veltan, but he was a god, after all. The farmer version of Omago had dutifully carried that information up to Veltan's house, and as time went on, he'd added his own assessment of the various farmers of the region. For example, he'd told Veltan that the little farmer called Selga was much more interested in gaining Veltan's respect than he was in passing warnings and the like to the local god.

The farmer version of Omago hadn't had much interest in women during his early years, and the elder version knew exactly why. Ara had quite obviously been tampering. Omago actually laughed when he realized that.

"What's so funny?" Ara's voice came out of nowhere along about then.

"Nothing, dear heart," Omago lied. "I just remembered something that was sort of amusing, is all."

Then Omago the elder quite vividly remembered Ara's rather blunt proposal. Her words still jumped out at him. "My name is Ara," she'd begun. "I'm sixteen years old, and I want you."

"It did get right to the point," the elder conceded, "but it might have been just a little too specific to drop on someone as innocent as my alternate was."

The more Omago considered things, though, it came to him that his true identity had unobtrusively stepped in on several occasions. When Veltan had given the young farmer version of Omago the iron knife, it had been the eternal version that had guided the younger one through the invention of the spear.