The Greatest Sin

“Raptor Nest, Raptor Nest, this is Seer-Central. Luck is above you, launch the birds.”

“Kavaa has started her march.” Iniri said to Helenna as the former fondled her dress, the latter fondled her knives. The Goddess of Food & Bounty looked through the window as of Helenna’s quarter, it had a direct view to the grand staircase leading to Olympiada. A staircase deluded by myths of its own grandiosity, mortals vowed it would take a week to climb the steps. It was a half-day climb for the sick and feeble. Adults could make the trip there and back in that time. And Kavaa’s Clerics? When led by their Goddess herself, they devoured that staircase step-by-step like a pack of hungry wolves.

They marched, chanting a battle-hymn of Kavaa’s Iniri had heard maybe a dozen times since the Great War concluded. A dozen was pushing it, and it was always sung without fervour, always used in demonstrations and parades. Always as if it was a blade calling to be used once again. Now though… Now, it sounded like a blade crying out, eager to taste blood. Four lines of helicopters flanked them, in the same fashion that navies would arrange their ships in preparation for a breakthrough of the enemy broadside.

Iniri watched, and Iniri smiled. You could take men out of war, but you could never take war out of men. It was simply human nature. This feeling was simply bliss.

Nostalgia.

“How long?” Helenna asked, she secured the knives under her battleskirt again, her hair had grown darker than pitch. Even Irinika, wherever the Goddess of Darkness was, would be jealous of hair like that.

“Thirty minutes at the rate they’re going.”

“Then it’s time we make our move too.” Helenna said coldly. Iniri turned and smiled, she felt her skin harden like an ancient oak’s bark, she knew her eyes had gone a noxious green. The flowers in Helenna’s vases had started to grow out of control, furiously climbing the walls with tiny roots. The wooden table creaked and started to disfigure as Iniri tapped into energies long unused. Energies that did not befit a Goddess whose title was Of Food & Bounty.

“Elassa! Elassa! Call Elassa! Call her now! WHERE IS SHE?! SEND WORD TO ARCADIA THEN! KAVAA IS LAUNCHING A COUP!

“Skyport repeats, skyport repeats! YOU ARE NOT GRANTED CLEARANCE TO LAND!” The speakers rung out throughout Damian’s plane. The Order of Twin Hearts had been ordered to secure Olympiada’s skyport and thoroughly rough up the runway as to block any reinforcements coming in from abroad. “TURN BACK IMMEDIATELY! THIS IS AN ACT OF TREACHERY AGAINST THE PANTHEON!” Damian turned back to his men.

They had seen the horrors of Arika, they had seen villages devastated by epidemic, they had powerlessly watched flooding and landslides, they had to dig half-rotten corpses out of the ground and give them proper burials. Kavaa had begged for Pantheon support again and again. The most the White Pantheon could spare was pocket-change. The Orders of other Goddesses were all too happy to put down revolutions of unarmed men, but to step into the jungles teeming with ageless beasts? Never. “You hear that boys?” He shouted over the man screeching in the speaker. He wanted to put music on at first, but the panicking tone over the radio, growing higher and higher with desperation, was better than music.

“Sir, they’ve raised barriers.” Zalewski’s voice through the speaker temporarily stopped the screaming fellow in charge of skyport navigation. The man was the sole pilot of the 77T, officially, they needed three pilots, but one good one was enough. It was a huge plane, but Olympiada’s skyport had enough room to line five 77Ts nose to rear.

“Can you land?” Damian asked over his radio.

“I’ve landed in worse before.” Zalewski over the speakers again.

“YOU WILL TURN BACK NOW!” That brought a good amount of laughter from the other Clerics on board. Every man armoured in the plate they had received upon taking the vows. With sword and axe and hammer, the Twin Hearts had spent too long in Arika to care for such trite as uniformed tool usage. Damian had a halberd in hands, it was good to slay beasts with. Men were much easier to slay than beasts.

The 77T tilted its nose sharply downwards. In the massive cargo hold, the hundred cramped men kept their cool. There was no falling over, no screams or shouts of panic. They had flown past hurricanes. This? This wasn’t even light turbulence. “I REPEAT! I WILL GIVE THE ORDER TO ARREST ANYONE ON BOARD!” The radio shouted as Damian moved passed his men to the huge doors on the rear of the plane.

“Slight warning guys.” Zalewski cut out the tunes of the madness again. “The wheels will come off. Hold on.” He cut out, the plane reversed its angle in a second, from pointing down to nose up. “HOLD ON!” He cut off as the operator came back on.

“AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!” His cry was cut out by the anguished screams of tearing metal and rock. Damian did not look back at his Clerics to check, he knew they were fine. Zalewski turned off the radio once again as he spoke over the speakers.

“Zalewski Airlines thanks its passengers for the journey. Please leave a review.” He heard a few men burst out in laughter and some more crack jokes about how their blind dog could land better. Damian kicked the rear door, the mechanism had busted although that was no surprise. The plane’s steel floor had twisted out of shape in the crash.

“Get the manual release!” He shouted to the Clerics on either side. 77Ts weren’t the fancy scalpels that other jets were. They were clubs. Locks twisted, pistons sounded, air released on either side of the cargo holds and Damian covered his ears. This was the worst part.

An explosion rocked the plane and the rear door flew off to reveal the runway of the skyport. At the edge, raised steel barriers were twisted out of ship where they had caught the plane’s wheels and then a crevice began where the 77T had carved a path for a new stream.

If this did not count as disabling the Skyport, Damian did know what Kavaa meant. He jumped from the rear as his Order grew silent and followed out. It was a short drop, and Clerics of Kavaa carried their Goddesses blessings of Health. A fall of a man’s height in full plate armour had about as much impact on them as rolling out of bed in the night. Two more 77Ts were closing in, Damian steeled himself for the screaming of steel once again.

Barriers caught wheels once again, hulls slammed into the ground, jet engines swallowed loose rocks and spewed their mechanical entrails behind. Doors rear doors blasted open and more Clerics of Twin Hearts emerged. Damian saw the various captains look around and being disembarking as the final set of planes, these smaller 40Ts, flew in. They had the same colours schemes of white and blue, with Order emblems emblazoned on them, along with various writings that said what the men thought of the Pantheon. Horribly unprofessional, but Arika killed professionality and replaced it with efficiency. Damian merely thought they were funny.

One, two, three, five 40Ts ate up the rest of the runway. Kavaa had led them plan their operation alone. They were her trusted doctors after all, there was no reason to take that away from them. Damian had first thought he would have to set fires and blow the planes but now? He looked over the ruined stone.

Plan succeeded.

Damian motioned for his men to follow him. Those who already made the jump from the plane started their march and freed up space for the rest to leave. A platoon of Seekers, a hundred men in total, had assembled. Tall men, handsome men, with fancy capes and armour and armed with spear and sword. They stood pale-faced, staring at the devastation of what eight controlled crash landings could do. Damian had to give it to the Seeker captain, the man managed to control his shock enough to take a step forwards, he didn’t think Seekers were capable of that.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” The Seeker captain said as Damian felt the energy of the men beside him. It wasn’t magic or blessing, it was some greater: brotherhood. Simple human brotherhood, forged in Arika and now brought to the Divine Mountain. Professionality died, vanity ceased, needless displays vanished. “STOP AT ONCE!” The Seeker captain shouted again, his golden armour so pristine. It did not even have a scratch on it, the complete opposite of the Twin Heart’s plate. They had enough scars of battle to share among the Seekers and still have some left over. “STOP! UNDER THE ORDERS OF GODDESS ALLASARIA, TURN IN YOUR ARMS!” He stamped his spear against the ground.

Damian slowly closed the distance as the other teams prowled in. Eight snakes waiting to strike. Damian was disappointed, he had expected a battle and blood spilled and skills tested. He had expected the Seekers of myth, not the palace guards of today. He stopped an arm’s length from the Seeker and heard the Cleric’s march stall behind him. The Seeker angrily stared at him, one fist over the spear, the over clasped angrily on his side, both shaking, tears were beginning to form in his eyes. Damian felt like an adult staring at a petulant child.

This was a Seeker captain? These were the men who complained about the Clerics? This is who got the first share of resources? This scum? Back when Kavaa gave her speech, Damian knew he would follow, she was his Goddess after all, but he had not believed her. Speeches rallied and exaggerated and embellished. They raised spirits, but only a fool would take them at face value. “TURN OVER YOUR ARMS AT ONCE AND WE CAN SORT THIS OUT!” The Seeker Captain shouted, it would have had more effect if the man’s voice didn’t break every word. When Damian did not respond, the line of men in gold armour took a step back. “PLEASE! DO NOT SHED BLOOD! WE DO NOT WANT TO HARM YOU!”

Kavaa had lied indeed. She had not gone far enough. This was not some mere sickness, this was cancer. And it was terminal.

As if he was about to fell one of the great Arikan giant spiders, Damian swung his halberd. The Seeker’s head came off, it launched into the air, blood sprouted from his neck and the body dropped to its knees. The Captain fell as his head landed on the ground, the helmet coming off. The Seekers behind him at least had the thought to lower their spears and start charging their magics.

Damian’s Clerics raced past him, they were Kavaa’s scalpel against this cancer.

Zerus, Call Zerus! Helenna and Iniri are moving towards the prison! HOLD FOR TEN MINUTES! ELASSA IS BRINGING MAGES!

Kavaa cleared the final step of Olympiada’s staircase. Eleven thousand men behind her, they formed a snake that winded and scale its way across the cliffside. Allasaria’s Seekers had already prepared a defence, along with several minor Gods. Mere inventions. She took a breath, frankly, she would have prepared to meet Zerus or Sceo or even Elassa here, the wait was the worst part. It always was. These fools though? They weren’t even a roadblock.

Kavaa silently took a step forwards onto the marble of Olympiada and walked through the grand gateway. Once, long ago, there had been walls here, the archway had gates. Once, it had served a purpose that wasn’t mere decoration. There were a few hundred Seekers here, Kavaa heard her men run to spread out on either side of her, then continue the silent march forwards. They were men forged by Arika, this would be their first time on the mountain, their first experience with the soft-skinned Seekers and petulant minor deities who ran around and demanded. They would see the grandest city on Arda. She wondered what they would think of the grand pillars, the empty rooms, the purposeless swarms of maids.

“STOP AT ONCE GODDESS KAVAA!” Someone shouted from the crowd ahead. A line of men in hard gold, with faces of soft butter and eyes of terrible fear. This was the glorious Order of Seekers. She continued her march, the rhythmic beat of steel boots on marble behind her said her Clerics followed too. “STOP AT ONCE!” Ten minor inventions had interspersed themselves throughout the battleline of Seekers. Kavaa wondered who they were, she never bothered to learn the names of fools who lived up here. Gods of various medicines were sent off to Arika, anyone who willingly came to serve Allasaria on the Pantheon was had a bureaucrat’s soul. Kavaa had never liked bureaucrats. “UNDER THE ORDERS OF GODDESS ALLASARIA, MILITARY FORCES ARE BARRED FROM ENTERING OLYMPIADA!”

Kavaa kept on her march forwards. Her Clerics were right behind her. The helicopters finally broke rank and flew ahead to secure various important locations. Chokepoints and intersections and watchtowers, Kassandora had forged the plan, Kavaa only had to show it to the men. It wasn’t particularly advanced, although the simpler the better when dealing with Divines. She heard her men mutter some curses at the tone the minor deity was using. “GODDESS KAVAA! YOU ARE A MEMBER OF THE PANTHEON! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN THIS!”

A dull explosion sounded from behind the men, judging the sound and direction, it was from the Skyport. Damian Sokolowski’s Order of Twin Hearts. They had seen the worst Arika had to offer and they asked for support from the Pantheon every month. Every month, Allasaria would turn them down. Kavaa could only imagine the man’s rage. Some Seekers turned the heads, the ranks slightly shifted as if a wave rolled through them, and Kavaa took another step forward. “GODDESS KAVAA! THIS IS AN ACT OF CLEAR DEFIANCE AND TREACHERY AGAINST THE PANTHEON!”

Kavaa took another step forwards. The helicopters disappeared behind buildings as they landed. “GODDESS KAVAA! ONE MORE STEP AND YOU WILL BE DECLARED A HERETIC DIVINE!”

Kavaa took another step forwards. Her Clerics did too. “DO NOT DO THIS, GODDESS KAVAA!” Some of the Seekers began to lower their spears. Kavaa finally stopped. She spread her arms out, she was the Goddess of Health, fighting was not her strong suit.

She took a heavy breath, fighting was not her strong suit, but this was why she had Clerical Orders. Battlefield Healers, once a feared force. Once, they had been one of the four pillars of the White Pantheon’s Armies. She closed her eyes, took a breath and let her magic seep into the Clerics. On Divines, her magics were weak, there was little she could do to amplify the strength of those who were ever at the peak of Health. But on mortals?

Fatigue faded away from their Seekers as Kavaa’s healing entered them. The trek up the mountain had not tired them out, but now, it was as if they had only just left their beds. Their eyesight became sharper, their hearing sharper, their muscles turned and twisted as they regrew into stronger versions. Armour that felt like steel suddenly felt as if was as easy a further, swords became the weight of pens. Tower-shields became paper-weights. “Clerics!” Kavaa called out. “We have just been declared heretics for coming to heal the Pantheon!” The Seekers shuffled slightly, and the minor deities took a step back. Clouds rumbled overhead. Zerus was starting to pay attention.

“GODDESS KAVAA! STOP!” Someone shouted from the other side. “YOU ARE MAD!”

“Clerics!” Kavaa shouted again and then grew silent. Someone had loosed an arrow into the chest of one of her men. It pierced through the plate of his armour and into his chest. The Cleric pulled it out and Kavaa silently worked her magic. There was no blood, no wound, the man touched his chest and then crushed the arrow in his hand. He looked to Kavaa and then bowed.

“GODDESS KAVAA! DO NOT BREAK THE PEACE!” Kavaa laughed. Who was this deity? What sort of minor invention would speak to her like this? To even utter her name was blasphemy. Do not break the peace? She existed solely for that. She was not the Goddess of Healing but of Health. She was a doctor, a doctor’s primary role was to keep health, to take preventative measures, to stop disease before it spread. An epidemic was a doctor’s failure. To treat wounds? She was not here to treat wounds. She was here to stop them from happening in the first place.

The Goddess of Health was a battlefield Goddess.

“Clerics!” Kavaa said quietly, she knew they could hear her. “They fire at us. You have my blessing, be my sword.”

A hundred men raced past Kavaa. Every man at the peak human functioning, they moved as if naked. Allasaria’s Seekers responded, a phalanx formed, the minor deities rose into the air and beams of Allasaria’s light blasted forwards.

But Allasaria was not here. A proper Divine was a weight unbeatable by humans. Arrows glanced off plate and bounced off skin. Allasaria’s light should have incinerated and eradicated what it touched, instead it merely singed muscle and set hairs alight. One of the minor deities launched forwards and smashed into the Clerics. He broke two men with a sword and then a spear pierced his back. An axe landed in his chest. A Cleric jumped into the air, both hands holding his heavy shield and crashed into the God.

The God’s head rolled. The line of Seekers was a dam, and the Clerics were a flood. They crashed, the first wave pushed back, then another and another. Eventually, a crack formed in the damn. A tall Cleric with a great axe snapped the spears of four Seekers. Before the gap could be filled, before the Seekers drew their swords, the space was overtaken by Kavaa’s Clerics. They utterly outmatched the Seekers, in skill and in power. Neither Divine blessing nor years of combat experienced could be replicated or feigned through armour and weaponry.

The line of Seeker broke from that opening and then it fell as Clerics overran the Seekers. Where lone squads formed, spears pointed in directions, Clerics would jump onto the walls of points and land behind them. Where men ran, Clerics would catch up or throw their weapon. Where minor Gods of inventions tried to prove their superiority, Kavaa would turn her attention and empower her men to strengths they could not imagine.

The first line of defence at the Gates of Olympiada was broken in less than two minutes. The Clerics rearranged themselves into battlelines and Kavaa restarted her march. She did not count her dead, some Clerics must have died, men died in all battles, but it could not be much. With her blessing, a man would need his head removed or his heart destroyed to die.

Kavaa wiped the sweat off her forehead and looked up.

Two figures floated in the air. An aged man and a woman. Kavaa smiled and disappeared into the first temple, the shortest route to the Lower Prison. So Zerus and Sceo had finally awoken.

She wondered how Iniri and Helenna were doing.

This was the easy part after all.