CHAPTER ONE

In the beginning, there was nothing. The unborn universe nestled in a womb of darkness. And this was how it was for a very long time. Or for a mere instant as time has very little meaning in an unborn universe. Then, from the darkness came the first two beings. Born of nothing, these beings existed alone for countless ages. In time, one of these elder gods grew bored of the emptiness and decided to fill it with something.

The first god started with the stars. Then came the world, which he named Wa'suria. And he made the sun to circle the world and bring it light. And he scattered all manner of plant and beast across his world.

Thus, Creation came into being.

And as the universe cooled, the second god peered over his brother's shoulder, metaphysically speaking, and looked down upon Wa'suria, and he liked his brother's world. More or less.

"What are those?" he would ask.

"Trees," the first god would answer.

"What do they do?"

"Do? They don't do anything."

"They just sit there?"

"They're not just sitting there," the first god would grunt. "They're growing. They're providing food and shelter. They're creating air for the other creatures to breathe."

"Couldn't they do all that and move around at the same time?"

The first god would toss a nasty glare his brother's way. A glare the second god made a habit of ignoring.

"And what are those?"

"Those are dragons. Greatest of my creations. They are my power borne of flesh."

"That so. Well, might I make a suggestion?"

-Sigh- "If you must."

"I was thinking they'd look really good with wings."

The first god reached down and touched the dragons and wings sprouted from their shoulders. "Yes, I suppose that does look better," he admitted with a great deal of reluctance.

"And wouldn't it be just fabulous if they could breathe fire?"

The first god snorted. "Don't be absurd."

"It's your world," the second god would relent.

"Yes, it is. Now, are you quite through?"

"Almost. I was just curious. Do you plan on doing anything with those things in the trees?"

"The monkeys? No, they're finished."

"That's too bad. I think they've got a lot of potential."

"What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing is wrong with them. It's just a shame to waste the shape. That's all."

"Waste the shape?"

"I really like the way they're put together. You could make some really interesting variations of it. Big, hairy monkey-shaped things. Little, green monkey-shaped things. Stubby, bearded monkey-shaped things."

The first god cupped his chin thoughtfully, metaphysically speaking, and considered the idea. "What about hairless, smart monkey-shaped things. I could call them men." And he touched the world and from Wa'suria sprang the many races of men and elves and trolls and countless other monkey-like creatures.

The second god offered a few more suggestions here and there, which the first god either accepted or declined, politely at first. But even elder gods of Creation have limits to their patience, and eventually, the first god reached his.

"If you think you can do a better job, why don't you make your own world?" he snapped.

And so the elder gods stopped talking to one another, and the second god went off to an empty corner of the cosmos and sulked. He started his world but never quite got around to finishing it for this god was an unmotivated sort of god. Truthfully, he was somewhat lazy and lacked the ambition inherent among all other nigh-omnipotent beings, of which there was only one other.

Time passed, and the second god grew bored floating through the universal ether. He shed his formless body and in the shape of a monkey-like creature stepped onto Wa'suria. He found a quiet corner of his brother's world, and there he stayed, content in his existence. An elder god with nothing but time on his hands and absolutely no desire to do anything with it.

And the universe grew under the watchful eye of the first god and the complete indifference of the second. And for a time, everything was good and right and proper, until one afternoon when the balance of Creation and the quiet, peaceful existence of the second god were thrown into chaos.

***

In a cottage, in the woods, there lived an elder god named Tod and his Cat.

The Cat had been Tod's constant companion for the past three thousand years, and as companions went, it was just about perfect. Which was why he'd bestowed up it immortality, blessed it with the power of speech, and given it the ability to become any variety of monkey-like thing at will. Despite all these physical gifts, Tod left the feline's basic nature unchanged and so, two thousand years of its long life had been lost in afternoon naps, and it had only changed shape a handful of times over the eons. Rarely did the Cat speak. Which was just the way Tod liked it.

The Cat rubbed against her master's legs. "I'm hungry. I want fish."

Tod reached down and scratched her head. With the tiniest ripple of his nigh-omnipotent power he created a plate of salmon before her.

"Yummy," the Cat purred and started eating.

Tod found his pole in the closet and headed out the door.

"I'm going fishing."

She looked up from her meal and licked her lips.

The elder god walked. The stream wasn't very far, and while space had meant little to him long ago, he had been wearing the shape of an orc for six centuries and a goblin four centuries before that, so he didn't mind walking. It helped to kill time, and Tod had become a master of killing time. His entire existence had been fashioned into doing it the least taxing ways. Ways like fishing and long naps and petting the Cat on the porch and, well, that was it.

He'd become quite a skilled fisherman since the dawn of time. It was mostly patience, and he had plenty of that. He could wait all day for a bite. Or all week. Once he had waited an entire year before realizing he'd forgotten to bait his hook.

And he had perfected naps long ago. The Cat had been a very good teacher, and often, they'd have contest to see who could sleep the longest. The Cat always won. There were limits to the talents of even elder gods.

The forest was in perfect bloom. Birds sang sweetly. Squirrels flitted among the branches. Tod strolled down the twisting trail to his favorite fishing spot, whistling along with the blue jays. Life was good.

"Thank Desaphanus, I've found you."

Tod jumped at the sudden voice. He glanced around but there was nobody there.

"Who's there? Pira, is that you?"

An angel materialized before him, with wings of gold and a silver sword in her right hand. Her billowing hair was dyed crimson with the blood of the wicked. Her jet black eyes were made to see the sins lurking within the breast of even the most righteous man. And her ruby lips twisted in a slight, ever-present snarl.

"Didn't you sense me?"

"Yes, of course, I did. I'm nigh-omniscient, aren't I? Nothing takes me by surprise." Tod smiled politely at the angel. He didn't care very much for Pira. Or any of Desaphanus's servants for that matter. They were so stolid and serious, too much like his brother.

Pira came within an inch of touching the ground. She tossed Tod a doubtful glance. "Of course. Then you must already know."

"I must. So there's no point in you telling me. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some important business to attend to."

"If you know why I've come then you know there isn't much time."

"Time is all I've got. And you too. Desaphanus made you immortal, didn't he?"

The angel zipped before him. "He did. I am His Righteous Anger Incarnate."

"Good for you. Now please go away, and tell my brother I said 'hello'."

"You don't know, do you?"

Tod sighed. "Know what?"

So great was Pira's surprise, she stopped flying for the first time in her existence. The Righeous Anger of Desaphanus was never meant to stride upon Wa'suria casually, and the entire world trembled beneath her bare feet. All the beasts, from the smallest mouse to the grandest great drake, cried out in a terrific chorus of stark, primal fear. The flowers wept blood, and a shadow covered the woods in absolute dark.

Having been born in darkness, Tod had no trouble seeing, and he could see the angel of harsh justice was not herself.

"What's wrong?"

"He's dead."

"Who's dead?"

"He. The Creator."

Tod's pole clattered to the ground. "But he can't be. That's impossible."

"All things are possible for Desaphanus. He is the greatest power in the cosmos. His breath gave the universe form, and his will brings it order." She looked skyward. "Or at least, it did."

"How?"

"There will be time for explanations later. Right now, we need you. Wa'suria needs you."

Tod sat in the grass. His brother's death, if such a thing were possible, did not bode well for the universe. He didn't need nigh-omniscience to know that.

"Sorry. Not interested."

"You can't turn your back on everything."

"Can't I?" He chuckled. "The universe was my brother's idea. I never really cared that much for it."

"But without someone to guide it, the entirety of the cosmos will fall into chaos."

"Not my problem."

Pira leveled her Silver Sword of Righteous Fury at Tod's throat. "You will come with me. One way or another."

"Try pointing that thing at someone who cares. It might instill terror in the hearts of men and demons, but I'm not impressed."

The angel held her ground. "I have been ordered to bring you to the Palace of Heavens, and I shall do so or die trying."

Tod shook his head with a slight smile. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? I could wipe you out of existence like that."

Pira remained stone-faced and resolute.

The elder god had other options besides destroying this nuisance. He could suspend her in the fluid of time, transform her into a butterfly, or wipe her mission from her mind. Even better, he could implant a whole new personality within her buxom figure. He always wondered what she would look like if she ever smiled, and it would be a nice change to have company fishing today.

"Very well, if you insist."

She lowered her sword.

"Go on. I'll be right behind you."

And the Righteous Anger of the dead elder god Desaphanus darted into the sky and vanished.

Tod jumped to his feet and tried to follow her. He tried but failed.

He willed his form to become lighter. He wished himself a pair of glorious wings to bear him upwards.

But his orcish flesh remained stubbornly heavy, and no wings grew from his back. Not even a single feather. It had been a long time since he'd worn any shape besides that of a monkey-like thing, and he realized just how out of practice he had become. Even nigh-omnipotent elder gods needed to keep up their skills.

He sat back in the grass and waited for Pira to return, which she did very shortly.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

His blue orc skin flushed green. "No. But could you give me a lift? I'd appreciate it."