The Antiheroes: The world needed heroes...It got them instead. Read online

  “What’s that?”

  “You know, your wings. According to all the stories, Perandius has wings, little ones, you know, though, thinking on it, I imagine he’d have to flap those bastards like mad to keep himself upright.”

  The figure scowled, turning and walking into the golden portal. As he disappeared through it, Dannen heard him mutter, “You lose one bet…”

  Then he was alone in the room and as good as the stranger’s words, there seemed to be an audible click in the air, and sound—time itself, in fact—seemed to suddenly reassert itself. He heard the guards stomping out in the hall, right outside the door now. A metallic noise drew his attention, and he glanced at the latch to see it move as one of the guardsmen tried it only to find it locked. In another moment, maybe two, they’d break it open and find Dannen standing here like a fool.

  He peered back into the portal, weighing his options, but he could see nothing through it, the entirety of it filled with a golden haze. Stay and be killed or go through a glowing portal and probably be killed? Not the best options, maybe, but about as good as they ever were. Dannen took a slow, deep breath, and stepped into the closet.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The first thing he saw as he emerged from the other side of the portal was a beautiful city. Otherworldly architecture loomed everywhere, buildings with great, sweeping balustrades and towers, all of them made of something white, perhaps marble, so bright it seemed to shine, dazzling his eyes, everything—even the streets themselves—enamored in gold. The second thing he noticed—this seeming a bit more urgent than the first—was that he was falling.

  He had just enough time to begin a shout of surprise, but not enough time to finish it before he struck the ground hard. Groaning, he rubbed at his head where it had struck and looked around to see that he had fallen in the center of a white circle crafted from marble that shined just as impossibly as the rest of the city. The golden road, like a dozen or so others, branched off from the circle like the spoke of some great wheel.

  Still rubbing his aching head, Dannen rose to his feet and grunted, impressed despite himself. “Well,” he said. “Either this is the longest death dream I’ve ever heard of, or you really are the Messenger God.”

  “I said as much, I believe,” Perandius answered with a raised eyebrow.

  Dannen looked behind him to see the golden portal hovering in the air a good three or four feet off the ground. A moment later, it winked out as if it had never been. Gods, but he hated magic. Oh, in theory it was great. Don’t feel like pouring your own beer? No worries, let the magic do the heavy lifting. Don’t feel like having to drink so much to get well and truly sloshed? No worries, magic can do that too. In practice, though, anytime he’d been around the stuff—more than most people did in their lives and far more than he wanted—it inevitably ended badly.

  “Couldn’t you have put the damned portal a bit closer to the ground?” he groused.

  “Strictly speaking?” Perandius asked, giving him a small smile. “Yes, yes, I suppose I could have.”

  “Might be you ought to do that next time,” Dannen muttered. “Not much of a welcome for your visitors, coming to the land of the gods only to fall on their asses.”

  “Or their heads,” the god said, clearly enjoying Dannen’s discomfort, “as the case may be.”

  Dannen decided he still wanted to punch the man in the face, god or no god. And if he was a god—a fact seeming to become more and more likely by the minute—Dannen figured he probably deserved it for letting the world become the absolute shit show that it was. Still, it probably wasn’t the healthiest thing, punching a god in the face, particularly since, if there were any more portals to go through soon, there wasn’t anything keeping the bastard from making sure they didn’t open onto a pool full of sharks. Dannen had never met a shark, not personally, but he thought it safe to say he hated them anyway.

  “Well,” he said, deciding it best to change the subject and maybe find a way to distract himself from his aching head, “we’re here. What now?”

  The god frowned. “Most of those fortunate enough to visit the land of the gods are a little bit more…well, amazed.”

  “Sure, I’m amazed right enough,” Dannen agreed. “But I’ve got to tell you, Perd—can I call you Perd?

  The god frowned. “No, you cannot. That doesn’t even make se—”

  “Anyway, Perd,” Dannen went on, “I’ve seen some pretty amazing things in my life, so forgive me if I’m not suitably impressed. Did I tell you about the guy with the shark teeth?”

  The god blinked. “You may have mentioned it.”

  “Well,” Dannen said, nodding. “There you go. Still, you seem a bit upset. I suppose, if it means that much to you, I can pretend to be impressed. Give you a few ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs,’ that sort of thing, maybe even throw in a blush or two, how’d that be?”

  “I am beginning to think you’re more than just a bit of a bastard,” the god said.

  Dannen grunted. “Well, if that’s the case, and you’re really a god, and you gods are the ones who made all people—me included—then that’s kind of on you, isn’t it?”

  Perandius stared at him for several seconds before finally blinking. “This way.”

  Before Dannen could say anything more, the god turned on his heel and started down the golden streets. Now that he wasn’t being watched, Dannen took the opportunity as he followed behind the god to stare in awe at his surroundings. He was no carpenter, but the buildings around him were like nothing he’d ever seen before as were the people—or, he supposed, gods—who walked the streets, some lazing about or talking in quiet conversation. Even the sky here was different. Instead of the nice, simple blue one he was used to, it was tinged with vibrant oranges and reds and yellows. It was more than a little disconcerting, and Dannen pulled his gaze away from it with an effort, deciding to stare at the buildings and the city’s denizens instead.

  To say those traveling the streets were unusual would have been a drastic understatement. Here, Dannen saw a god with shoulders as wide as he was tall which had to be a good seven feet, speaking to a female whose beauty was literally painful to look upon as she seemed to shine like the sun. They were both eating something from golden plates, though what it was Dannen couldn’t tell from this distance, and he didn’t much care in any case. He’d never considered the fact that gods would eat like men did, though whether by necessity or just because they enjoyed it he supposed there was no telling.

  They passed another in a white tunic who was levitating several feet above the street in a sitting position, playing a harp more beautifully than anything Dannen had ever heard. He stopped following Perandius to listen.

  For several seconds, Dannen wasn’t aware of anything except that music, except each strum of the harp which seemed to reach directly to his heart. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Perandius frowning at him. “Well? We don’t have all day, you know.”

  “It’s…it’s amazing,” Dannen breathed.

  The god grunted. “Give it a few thousand years, and you’ll want to pull your hair out. Or someone else’s,” he muttered, the scowl he shot the harpist god making it all too clear who he meant. “Now, come on.”

  Dannen reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled away, some part of him thinking that, if he could listen to music like that all the time, maybe he really would be able to swear off violence. There was so much to look at, so much beauty, it was almost overwhelming.

  The next few minutes passed in a blur of white and gold buildings until finally Dannen grunted. “You ask me, you all might need to think about hiring a decorator. I mean, white and gold are fine enough, but it’s a bit painful on the eyes, isn’t it?”

  “Not so loud,” Perandius hissed, turning on him, then glancing around as if expecting an army to come charging out from one of the nearby buildings.

  Dannen frowned. “Why? You gods take your buildings that seriously, eh?”

  Perandius raised an eyebrow, “Some more than others. If Feralest heard you say as much, I’d never hear the end of it.”

  “Wait a minute,” Dannen said, unable to keep the awe from his voice, “you mean the God of Death? He’s here?”

  Perandius rolled his eyes. “Oh, he’s skulking somewhere, I’m sure. If he had it his way, the whole place would be black and crimson. He brings it up at every council meeting, has for the last few thousand years or more. He is quite stubborn.”

  Dannen thought if Perandius believed it a surprise that the God of Death was stubborn he was out of touch, but he shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  The god studied him for a moment then turned and started down the street again. Dannen followed him—there wasn’t much else to do—but they’d only taken a few steps when a woman walked out of an alleyway, interposing herself directly in front of Dannen, so he was forced to stop.

  “Hi there,” the woman said, and Dannen was surprised to see that her face looked drawn, her hands shaking, reminding him of those addicted to one of the herbs which were intoxicating but, inevitably as all good things did, led to pain or death.

  “Hi,” he managed.

  “W-would you like to know how to be happy for the rest of your life? To experience real joy without consequence a—”

  “Enough of that,” Perandius said sternly, coming to stand beside them.

  “Oh, Perandius,” the woman said, giving him a nervous grin and studying him with eyes that were slightly too wide and more than a little wild. “I-it’s good, you know, to see you. I…well. I was just telling your friend here—”

  The messenger god sighed. “Later, Elaria, please, okay?”

  “I-I’ve got an idea,” the woman pressed, “for the next council meeting. I thought, maybe, we could talk abou
t it and—”

  “I promise, I’ll listen, just not now, alright? I’m quite busy and…you understand, of course?”

  “Of course, of course,” the woman blurted, nodding her head so roughly that it looked in danger of coming off. “B-but you will come see me? Soon?”

  Perandius nodded. “I will. I promise.”

  “Okay then,” she said, flashing Dannen a smile that was beautiful despite her strange appearance and one that engendered in him a feeling of tranquility before she scurried back into the alleyway.

  He watched her go then turned to Perandius. “Wait a minute…you said that was Elaria? As in the Goddess of Peace?”

  Perandius winced, nodding. “Yes. She means well, but she’ll talk your ear off if you let her and if you’re fool enough to answer your door without checking, there’s an afternoon—or a year—gone before you know it. My father says she was magnificent once, but…” He shrugged.

  Dannen stared after the quickly departing goddess. “What’s uh…what’s wrong with her?”

  Perandius looked at him as if he was daft. “She’s the Goddess of Peace.”

  “Right,” Dannen said slowly, “but what does that have to do with anything?”

  The god sighed. “Does the world feel particularly peaceful to you, just now?”

  “Well,” Dannen said, “I’ve heard of some troubles up north, but…well, no,” he finished lamely under the god’s annoyed gaze. “No, I guess not.”

  “Exactly,” Perandius said. “Not a lot for the Goddess of Peace to do, if there isn’t any peace is there? And you mortals, while fond of many things, cannot count peace among them.” He glanced off in the direction she’d vanished. “One sympathizes, but that doesn’t make it any easier to endure one of her lectures. Now, come on. We’re late as it is.”

  Dannen meant to ask the god what exactly they were late for, but before he had a chance Perandius turned on his heel and started off again. He was left with no choice but to follow or hang around where he was and since he had no idea where he was, he hurried after the god.

  In time, they came to a house considerably smaller than any of the others they had passed. He was just about to ask Perandius what poor fool lived in what amounted to be little more than a shack. Then the god walked inside, answering his question for him.

  Dannen followed. He wasn’t sure what he had expected when entering a god’s home, but if it was something magical, a horse with wings, maybe, then he was doomed to disappointment. The god’s house wasn’t magical, wasn’t extravagant. What it was, more than anything, was boring. The walls were lined with bookshelves packed near to bursting with all manner of scrolls and tomes. The room had a single table and chair. The only other piece of furniture in the main room was what Dannen took for a desk, though he couldn’t be sure as it was so covered in scrolls and parchments as to be nearly invisible.

  “Eh…nice place,” Dannen said, because it was the type of thing a person said when walking into a god’s house. Or maybe not. If he was being honest, Dannen had done a pretty shit job so far in his life of getting on with normal people. The gods only knew how a man was supposed to treat the…he paused, laughing.

  “Something funny?” Perandius asked, and god or not there was a very human-like defensiveness in his tone.

  “Ah, no, nothing,” Dannen said. And that, at least, was true. There wasn’t anything funny about the god’s home, though home didn’t feel like the right word. Hovel, maybe. Or cave. Certainly, what little bit of the strange light from the sky would have made it into the home was largely blocked by row after row of documents stacked nearly as high as the top of the home’s only window.

  The god watched him for another moment then apparently decided to take his words at face value, which was just as well as Dannen figured he probably already had enough problems in his life without incurring the wrath of a god.

  Perandius moved to a shelf and began rummaging through the stacks of documents there, though how he thought to find anything in those haphazard towers of paper, Dannen couldn’t imagine. “Now, I know it was here somewhere,” the god muttered.

  “You must be a blast at parties,” Dannen said, but the god appeared too distracted by whatever task he’d set himself to pay the mortal in his midst any mind.

  “Got anything to drink in this du—” Dannen cut himself off before he could finish. “That is, anything to drink in this place?”

  “There’s a fountain outside, the water will be the purest you have ever tasted. Some mortals have—”

  “I mean a man’s drink.”

  Perandius looked at him, and after a moment a decidedly mischievous look came over his face, and he nodded. “Of course. It’s just there, a golden bottle on the desk.” He motioned vaguely at the pile of parchments at the far end of the room.

  Dannen considered whether or not it was worth the trouble, but considering the fact that his head was pounding from a night of drinking he didn’t remember, he’d barely escaped death at least once today, and was meeting a god for the first time in his life—a decidedly anticlimactic experience—he thought he deserved it. He walked to the vaguely desk-shaped pile of parchments and began shoving them aside. He was just about to give up the search altogether when he saw a glimmer in the stack and pulled out a golden bottle.

  “Ha!” He popped the cork from the top of the bottle and was about to turn it up when the god spoke.

  “I would proceed with caution, Dannen Ateran. The gods’ ambrosia is not a drink for mortals.”

  Dannen snorted. “If I’ve got some reading needs doing, Perandius, I’ll ask for your advice. But when it comes to drinking, I’m a bit of an expert, so don’t be offended if I don’t listen to the god version of a clerk.”

  The god opened his mouth as if to object then gave a faint shrug, the ghost of a smile on his face. “As you wish. I suppose losing a day will not be so terrible.”

  Dannen wasn’t sure what the god meant by that, and it didn’t matter much in any case, for he was already drinking. He didn’t know what the god’s water tasted like—didn’t much care—but the alcohol was damned fine. Tart sweetness filled his mouth, and he was immediately suffused with a pleasant warmth that made his toes and fingertips tingle.

  “I’m supposed to be scared of this?” Dannen barked a laugh. “Shit, Perandius, I’ve had water with more of a ki…” He trailed off, suddenly forgetting what he’d intended to say. Well, that was weird, maybe even something he ought to be concerned about, but the warmth was continuing to spread through his extremities, and he couldn’t find it in him to care.

  The drink of the gods themselves and wasn’t that a fine thing? Dannen thought it always important to be reasonable—thought it was, by and large, why he was still alive when so many of his former companions were dead—and so he did what any reasonable man would when offered such a beverage. He drank some more.

  The next thing he knew, he was sitting in the single chair by the table. He didn’t remember walking to it, but that was okay, nothing to worry about, surely. He’d never cared much for walking anyway but sitting, now that was a fine thing. He was still sitting that way, his feet propped up, when the door opened, and a large man walked in, having to ease in sideways to fit his bulk through the doorframe. The man seemed to be made entirely of muscle, without an ounce of fat. He was tall, too, with long white hair past his shoulders, despite which his face had a youthful appearance, and had he not obviously been a god—no doubting it, not with this one—Dannen might have put him in his early forties.

  Dannen thought that this was what a god should look like, a far cry from the Messenger God in clothes that looked slightly rumpled and appeared to not quite fit, looking too small in some places and too large in others. Even the god’s voice, when he spoke, was what a man thought of when he prayed to the gods, deep and resonant and seeming to fill the room like thunder. “Ah, Perandius. You have returned.”

  Perandius spun, and Dannen noticed his eyes go slightly wide. He bowed his head, “Yes, si—” he began, but was interrupted by a second newcomer walking through the door. “Though late, it seems.” The newcomer said in a sneering, arrogant tone. “As always, younger brother.”