Divine Assistance Read online

  It was time to get to work.

  Torment dispelled his invisibility and called on a small measure of his divine glory. The air split, and the clouds ruptured as tendrils of smoke and flame billowed around him. The screaming and wailing of the damned filled the sky. He took a quick peek at Ruin’s book and nodded to himself. He was on the right track. He needed to be impressive but stern, and there was to be absolutely no smiling.

  “Tremble in fear, foolish mortals!” Torment’s powers allowed his voice to echo in the hearts, minds, and souls of every mortal in the city. Everyone heard him, and his voice drove the mortals to their knees. “You have shown incredible disrespect not only to the laws laid down by the wisest amongst mortals but also to the laws of the gods themselves. You were offered a chance to repent, to mend your ways and better yourselves, yet you have chosen to turn this city into a cesspool of sin and depravity. In accordance with divine law, I, Torment, have come to deliver your punishment. May the fall of this city serve as a warning and lesson to all those who would flout the laws of the gods.”

  As he finished speaking, he noticed some of the mortals were blathering on about it being Saturday. So what? He was a god. He knew it was Saturday. Did they honestly think he couldn’t be bothered to destroy their city because it was a weekend? Well, they were about to find out that he had absolutely no problems working on a weekend if the situation called for it.

  He flung his arms out to either side, and the sky cracked in half. Burning meteors tumbled out of the gaping hole in the sky and rained down on the city. Screams rang out as buildings were blown apart and large sections of the city were set on fire. People rushed toward the gates of the city, and he gestured sharply with one hand. The ground around the city transformed into a seething river of molten lava that incinerated anyone foolish enough to try to get across. Torment rubbed his chin thoughtfully. This was strangely therapeutic. Destroying a city full of evildoers was somehow quite relaxing. As meteors continued to rain down on the city and the screams of the doomed populace grew ever louder and more agonised, he allowed himself to drift closer to the devastation. It wasn’t perfect, but Ruin should be reasonably satisfied.

  Torment was sure this would make an impression. Mortals would hear about the fall of Arbat and mend their ways, lest their city share its fate. What was it that Wrath sometimes said? Ah, yes. The slaughter of one city could be used to warn an empire. The destruction of Arbat would ensure good behaviour from the mortals in this area for centuries. They might even immortalise the occasion in song and verse as a dramatic example of what not to do. Torment glanced down and spotted one extremely malevolent mortal trying to hack his way through the crowd around the gates with a sword. A carefully aimed meteor sent the evil fellow off to the afterlife.

  He was still watching events unfold – some of the mortals had somehow managed to survive for the better part of thirty minutes due to some truly ingenious improvisation – when he sensed the approach of another god. His brows furrowed. Why would another god come here? This was his mission. Wait. He knew this feeling. The one headed his way was Bureaucracy.

  Despite her less than menacing name, Bureaucracy was one of the Greater Gods. She was actually Death’s twin sister, and she presided over all forms of bureaucracy, as well as all forms of law and order. Over the years, she’d picked up countless other names. Some mortals called her Paperwork. Others called her Order. But the most popular of her alternate names was a tribute to something she’d invented, something that had vexed gods and mortals alike for countless years – Taxes. Yes, as mortals were so fond of saying, there were only two constants in the world, Death and Taxes. Torment couldn’t help but agree.

  The Supreme Mother and Supreme Father were the ones who’d shaped Creation, but it was Bureaucracy who’d brought some semblance of order to the divine realm that served as the home of the gods. She was also the one who had codified the laws of the gods in painful, excruciatingly complete detail. The resulting tome came with countless examples and technical explanations and ran to a length of more than ten billion pages. Thankfully, she’d also released a more practical version, which ran to a more manageable one hundred pages. Her efforts ensured that the Supreme Mother and Supreme Father had plenty of time to spend on shaping Creation, as opposed to getting bogged down in the day-to-day operation of what they’d already created. Arguably the greatest of Bureaucracy’s powers was her ability to bind even other gods with the laws she’d codified. She wasn’t just stronger than Torment. If she had been so inclined, she could very easily have pummelled him and his brothers from one end of the mortal world to the other without breaking so much as a sweat.

  Bureaucracy arrived a moment later. As was usually the case, she wore the shape of a tall woman dressed in an elaborate, hooded robe that prevented anyone from making out any of her features except her full, red lips and her eyes, which were an ever-shifting rainbow of luminous, impossible colours half-hidden behind a pair of glasses. Her robe was woven from the very finest of divine fabrics, and the patterns on it constantly shifted to display the laws she had codified. In her left hand, she held a book with an infinite number of pages that was said to document every single event that had ever taken place in Creation, along with all of the associated paperwork. In her right hand was a quill made from a feather taken from the Mother of Phoenixes.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Torment?” Bureaucracy asked. Her voice was quiet, but there was steel in it too. Torment shivered and drew himself up to his full height. He was taller than her, yet he couldn’t help but feel small in the face of her withering gaze.

  “I’m doing what you asked me to,” he replied. “I’m smiting Arbat.” He paused and studied the city below them. “I know I can’t smite things with as much style as Ruin or Wrath, but I didn’t do that badly, did I?”

  Bureaucracy’s eyes shimmered, one of them silver and one of them gold, and she leaned forward to peer at him over her glasses. He gulped. That was not a good sign. “Are you sure this is Arbat?”

  “Of course.” Torment handed her the checklist he’d used. “It ticks off every point on this checklist.”

  Bureaucracy peered at the list. He couldn’t see much of her face at all, but her lips curved into a faint frown. The air around them shimmered, and he could have sworn they were suddenly in the middle of a vast, endless library. He gulped. All of the Greater Gods had personal realms that were under their absolute control. The Infinite Compendium was Bureaucracy’s, and it was said to house every piece of paperwork, law, or legislation that had ever been or would ever be created. The air shone again, and they were back above the burning city.

  “I understand now. You do realise that this is a general checklist. I warned Ruin about leaving it on his desk since it was likely to be misinterpreted. This city is not Arbat, Torment. This is Kaldan.” She lifted one arm and pointed into the distance. “Arbat is exactly five hundred and fifty miles that way.”

  “What?” Torment screeched. “Are you sure? But… but the checklist!”

  “As I said, it is a general checklist. Has it occurred to you that more than one city at a time can meet the criteria necessary to earn a smiting? In fact, unless their behaviour changes soon, there are currently five cities that meet the criteria for a smiting.” She paused and looked pointedly at the city below them. “Although I suppose I should make that four cities.”

  “But –”

  “This city – Kaldan – does indeed meet the criteria on the checklist, but these criteria are not specific enough. Notice, for example, that there are no references to specific geographical features that you could have used to ensure you were smiting Arbat.”

  Torment wanted to throw up. He probably would have if Bureaucracy hadn’t been standing right in front of him. He was already in trouble. Throwing up on her would not have helped his cause at all. He swallowed thickly. “Did I just destroy a city full of innocent mortals?”

  “Of course not.” Bureaucracy’s voice brooked no di
sagreement. “You said that you went through this checklist, so you must have noticed how wicked the people of this city were. As one of the gods involved in punishing the wicked in the afterlife, your ability to see into the hearts, minds, and souls of mortals is excellent. The people of this city – the ones still present when you began to destroy it – are far from innocent. In fact, this city – Kaldan – was scheduled for smiting this coming Monday. It’s only Saturday, so you’re two days early.” She sighed. “Alas, dens of sin and iniquity have become more common than we would like although that could simply be a side effect of the growing population of mortals. If we assume that the percentage of unpleasant mortals is relatively stable, then an increase in the number of mortals should also lead to an increase in the number of unpleasant mortals. Given the mortal tendency to seek out companionship, it’s hardly surprising to see them congregate in certain cities.”

  “Phew.” Torment wiped some sweat off his brow. “It’s nice to know I didn’t wipe out a city full of innocent mortals.” Bureaucracy was right. He had checked to see if these mortals were any good before destroying the city, but she had a way of making people doubt themselves. “Wait… not that I doubt you, but can I check something?”

  “By all means.” Bureaucracy gestured at the city. “Check.” The laws that governed the relationship between gods and mortals had appeared on her robes in letters seemingly written in holy fire.

  Torment flew down and plucked a mortal off a rooftop by the scruff of his tunic. He appeared to have recently murdered someone if the blood on his tunic was anything to go by. There was an awful lot of it, and none of it was his. Torment wasn’t worried about sullying his clothing. Dirt, water, and other such things could not affect a god or anything under their power unless they allowed it. The major exception to that rule was if another god was involved. For example, if Oceanos, the Lord of Waters, hurled a wave at him, Torment was most definitely going to get drenched.

  “What city is this, mortal?” Torment asked.

  “Kal… Kaldan…” The mortal wailed and clutched at Torment’s hand. “Please, spare me! Spare me, oh noble – ah!”

  Torment tossed the mortal into the river of lava that had begun to swallow the street. “Okay, Bureaucracy was right.” He drifted back up to the goddess. He’d made a mistake, but it wasn’t that bad. “How much trouble am I in?”

  Smiting the wrong city had to be a breach of divine law, so the very least he could expect was a pile of additional paperwork. He’d also get thoroughly scolded by his brothers, and there were likely to be other punishments involved as well. On the upside, the city he’d destroyed had been scheduled to meet its end on Monday, so he shouldn’t be in too much trouble.

  Around them, meteors continued to rain down on the city as rivers of lava flowed through the gates to consume neighbourhood after neighbourhood. There were still some mortals left, but they didn’t have long. They were a tenacious bunch, so they might last as long as five or ten more minutes. It was a pity they were evil. They could have done so much good with that sort of tenacity and determination.

  Bureaucracy pursed her lips. “You’re only two days early, and the innocents had already evacuated this city prior to its destruction. As such, apart from some forms totalling fifty pages, you should be able to escape any serious punishment. However, you will have to personally explain to Death why so many people have turned up early. There is a schedule for things like this, and he does like to stick to it. It makes his job much easier, and I’m sure you know how busy he is with his duties. The more mortals there are, the more souls he has to claim.

  Torment froze. “I have to explain this to Death?”

  “Yes. Since he is the god who is most likely to be inconvenienced by your mistake, he will be the one responsible for selecting a suitable punishment for you – within the limits set by divine law, of course.”

  “Can’t you do it?” Torment whined, not caring how he sounded. Bureaucracy backed off, but he lunged forward and grabbed her leg. Who cared about protocol? He didn’t want to have to explain this to Death! “You’re his twin sister. He can’t smite you. But I work for him. He can definitely smite me.”

  It was true. Although Torment was a god of good standing and reasonable rank, Death was one of the Greater Gods. For all intents and purposes he answered only to the Supreme Mother and Supreme Father. Admittedly, Death wasn’t known for being particularly vengeful or malicious, but Torment had just dumped a city’s worth of mortals into his realm two days early.

  Bureaucracy pried him off. “No.” She tilted her head to one side. “Compose yourself. He’s here.”

  A long shadow appeared in the air, and the area grew bitterly cold as an icy mist filled the sky. Death was coming. The shadow widened, transforming into a door of utter darkness before it swung open to let Death through. Like his sister, Death’s features were almost completely hidden from view. He wore a black cloak that was blacker than the dead of night. The garment seemed to move with a life of its own, and it drank in the light of the moon and stars above them to cast the world into complete darkness.

  To Torment’s immense relief, Death didn’t have his scythe with him. Never mind – he was calling for it now. Death lifted one hand, and his scythe appeared. It was a weapon of unmatched deadliness that had been forged out of his very essence. It wasn’t black so much as it was a gaping hole in Creation itself, a glimpse of what Creation would be like if Death brought an end to everything. After all, what was Death but the end of all things given form? Death’s eyes peered at Torment from within the shadows of his hood. It was impossible to describe the colour of Death’s eyes, but Torment felt as if every thought, every secret, and every idea he’d ever had was laid bare before them.

  “Torment,” Death murmured. “I understand that you’ve made a mistake.” His eyes narrowed. “As you know, I can be in more than one place at once. When parts of me started to collect large numbers of souls from this city – a city that wasn’t scheduled for smiting until Monday – I decided it would be best to investigate.” Death’s lips curled. “Explain yourself.”

  Torment decided to do the smart thing. He fled, using his divine powers to teleport away – at least, he tried to.

  Death was no mere god. He was one of the Greater Gods. Indeed, he was arguably the most powerful of the Greater Gods, below only the Supreme Mother and Supreme Father. Torment wasn’t going anywhere unless Death let him. Before Torment knew what was happening, Death had pulled him into a headlock with one arm while he used his other arm to bonk Torment over the head with the blunt part of his scythe.

  “Do you know how much paperwork I’m going to have to do because of you?” Death growled. He stopped hitting Torment over the head with his scythe and held the weapon out toward his sister. “Can you hold this for me? I’d like to strangle him, but it’ll be more satisfying if I can use both hands.”

  “I think not.” Bureaucracy made no move to take the scythe. “That’s your scythe, brother.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s not going to kill you. It only kills what I want it to kill.” Death bonked Torment over the head with the weapon again. “See? I hit Torment with it, and he’s fine.”

  Torment was most definitely not fine, but he wasn’t going to waste his energy complaining. Instead, he did his best to escape, but Death’s grip refused to budge.

  “Oh, very well.” Bureaucracy accepted the scythe but decided to throw Torment a bone. “But no strangling him. Strangling him is not one of the punishments allowed under divine law. If you strangle him, you’ll have to fill out additional paperwork.”

  “Good point.” Death yanked Torment up, so they could see eye to eye. The Greater God pinched both of Torment’s cheeks. Torment was reminded of the first time he’d met Death. He’d been a young god then, and Death had towered over him. He was the same height as Death now, but Death could still make him feel like an unruly child. “You should always check to see if you’re destroying the right city. You can see into the
minds of mortals. Check to see what they call their city. You could also use a map.”

  “Ouch!” Torment wailed. “Stop pinching my cheeks!”

  “Not a chance.” Death pulled him back into a headlock. “I remember your first day on the job. You almost started punishing the wrong mortals because you couldn’t be bothered to ask Justice if they were good mortals or bad mortals. If you’re not sure, then check!” He growled. “Consider this part of your punishment. As for the other part – there is no way that I’m doing any of the extra paperwork. You’re going to be doing it for me.”

  Epic Battle

  Zephyra was a young goddess, and she had a long way to go before her powers approached anything even remotely resembling their peak. However, she was still far beyond some weak, pathetic mortal. She was the youngest daughter of the mighty god of the west wind and the granddaughter of the Lord of the Winds himself. The powers she wielded – as incomplete as they were – were still more than enough to strike awe and terror into the hearts of mortals. Indeed, only the most foolish of mortals would ever have dared to defy her. Yet one such fool had decided that this particularly bright and sunny day was the perfect day to oppose her.

  “Puny mortal!” Zephyra thundered as she jabbed one finger at this most impudent and insolent of mortals. “You dare to defy me? Do you know who I am? I am Zephyra, daughter of the west wind and granddaughter of the Lord of the Winds. I wield energies far beyond your pathetic comprehension. I have gazed upon secrets and mysteries that would drive even the wisest of your kind mad, and I am privy to knowledge that would reduce you to a gibbering wreck. Cease your defiance at once, and perhaps I shall find room in my heart to spare you, despite your shameless blasphemy and mockery!”

  But despite her exceedingly generous offer, her opponent remained utterly unmoved. In fact, the miscreant simply stared back at her with his beady eyes as if daring her to make the first move. Her lips curled. She’d underestimated this fool. He must either be exceedingly stupid or exceptionally brave. She had assumed it was the former, but it could be a bit of both. Mortals did have a tendency to combine bravery with stupidity.