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superheroauthor · 3 months ago

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AND THE GODS DO PLAY

CHAPTER TWO - The War between Gods and Bulldozers

He awoke at three the next morning, fully refreshed, lying in his bed in his pyjamas. As his coffee boiled in the pot, he checked his laptop. Dawn would be at 4:50. He would have to hurry. There would be no trains or buses running this early and Victoria Park was a few miles from his house. He then had to get everything ready.

A taxi? Hardly make much difference after calling the taxi and waiting for it. As the coffee boiled, he poured it into a large thermos, added sugar, stirred it with a long spoon and put the thermos in his little backpack with a couple of other items. A cup of the remaining coffee he drank very sweet with a touch of cold water to cool it. He then set out.

Walking three or four miles was nothing to him. He had never owned a car even though he had a full licence. Indeed, he owned an HGV licence too. A licence that allowed him to drive up to 32 tons. He normally drove a 5 tonner though. Delivery trucks from warehouses to shops. His vehicle though was at work. True, this was only a mile away but in the other direction. He also thought he might get the sack if he ‘borrowed’ the truck just after three in the morning.

He was used to walking. He rarely took the truck home with him and only then if it was to be an early start. He put his mind on thinking something out and the miles just faded away. So much so that when he looked up from his walk he was at the rear gates of Victoria Park. He scaled the big iron gate and dropped down, hands held above him to lessen the drop.

He proceeded to the trees. The little wood was on a path that ran right through it and from this gate. He was soon amongst the trees.

A figure jumped out. He knew her immediately. It was The Forest Ranger or that is what all the newspapers called her and she seemed to accept it. She was an eco-warrior. She had been the length and breadth of the country protecting areas of conservation or preventing people putting up a retail park in the New Forest where the little ponies had one of their breeding grounds. They could breed anywhere but kept on going back to that spot. She soon became so famous that other eco-warriors would join her or just middle-class tossers who thought that nature was more important than progress.

She was tinier than any of her pictures in the paper showed and looked more feral than in any of her pictures. She could not leave the spots she protected so her clothes were ripped, torn and muddy, her face too. It was hardly possible to see the pretty face from the newspapers under all the grime on her.

“I must pass.” He told her.

She belligerently stood in his path.

“You will not pass. These trees are wonderful. They are ancient. You will not pass.” She spoke with passion. A passion he would have loved to be directed towards him rather than some trees.

“As you will.” He said curtly.

He was not out to make friends today. Even if he did use his skills that had nearly made him friends before, someone would only drop an elephant on his head.

He gazed at the trees and not her.

He said one word.

“Malfeasance !”

The trees all waved their branches. Not like the wind moving their branches. They waved their branches towards him. They had come to life.

“Do not harm her. She is on your side.” Jake told the trees.

One big strong oak ripped its roots from the ground and seem to stride forwards. A neat trick indeed as it must have been wriggling forwards on its roots. It had no legs.

“I am ‘Corn.” It announced in a very creaky voice.

A tree creaked behind him, the largest of the trees, with its bark that was greying with age, covered in part with moss. It shook its branches at ‘Corn.

“It is true. My full name is Leaf and Branch. My secret name. You are our God, it is your right to know.” ‘Corn added.

What a tree expected from a God he did not know. He would not be able to answer their prayers, he did know that. If trees prayed. Or maybe he would. Maybe all they wanted was to be safe.

Others ripped their roots from the ground including the largest and by the looks of it the most ancient.

“I am leader here.” Stated ‘Corn and the old one did not gainsay him.

Jake knew he had power over these trees but more than that. These trees, all oaks were now in his purview. He had special powers with them that he did not care to guess. He concentrated on a single thought. His left hand seemed to move in a pattern and the other hand joined in.

There was a cracking sound from all the trees, a groaning as if the wind was bending their branches.

“Oh, holy acorns!” Shouted ‘Corn as his trunk changed and he now had two legs. Each and every one did now. Even the rooted trees had a split low down the trunks. “You are my master, my God!” ‘Corn cried out.

“You will need to walk to be able to defend this grove.” Jake told them.

Many seemed to bend forward, maybe in a gesture like bowing, showing obedience . . . or love.

The Forest Ranger had vanished. If she were true to form, she would have holes and tunnels here. Ropes slung from tree to tree with platforms between them. The ropes had now snapped as all of the trees were now uprooted and moving on their new legs. The platforms dropped to the ground, some of them smashing their plank construction.

“What do we call you, oh God?” Asked ‘Corn and there were many creaks. It was evident he had voiced the mood of all the trees.

Well, even to him, Jake did not sound like a God’s name, not even a hero’s. He gave it some thought. A name the trees would like . . . that would be acceptable to the Gods of England . . . and one he thought would satisfy him.

“Call me Sapient!” He told them and they creaked their approval. The word Sap being in the title and in their very cores.

It appealed to him as he was intelligent rather than a man of action. Thoughts were more important to him than deeds. Until now. The name Sapient showed intelligence and wisdom. The perfect name for the hero of the trees. Or even the God of the Oaks.

“The bulldozers, the huge machines that can rip you up by the roots . . .” An impossibility now as they were walking but great sighs went through the grove of trees as if in despair. “. . . we have to fight them. Yes, you too. I am sure you have all seen the machines?” A creaking of assent. Oh my giddy aunt, he could understand the language of the trees. “Don’t attack the metal parts. Smash their windows, cut their power lines, spike their tyres with strong sharp twigs. Can you make fists with the twigs at the end of your branches?”

“Only if you will it Lord Sapient!” Groaned the elderly tree. Jake turned his attention to the tree. “Oh, my name? I too am called Sap. Yes, I am the elder. Soon after I was born I was planted in the centre of a large circle of elms. Just a young sapling then, a mighty oak to grow in the midst of them. Of course the others came later. Just a couple of centuries, they are only about four hundred years. By then I was a lone tree. Elm disease had rotted my companions so they planted these young ones in the form of a large circle. Acorns dropped, as they will, and now we are a grove. Six were planted, from that seven including myself, now we are forty-four. I am Six hundred and sixty-six. A good age for an oak . . .”

“Don’t listen to him!” Said the younger tree, the leader, ‘Corn. “He will talk for days at a time. As he is the elder, he has the right. Days, weeks. Once for a whole season he went on giving us his full history.”

Sap waved his branches in protest but the younger trees were waving their branches slightly. Jake thought they were showing mirth, agreeing with ‘Corns assessment of the old one.

It was obvious that the trees knew nothing about fists. That was a human thing with fingers. With his right hand he showed them, slowly bunching his fingers and thumb into a fist and then out again and then repeating the fist. His other hand seemed to be wriggling its fingers.

A sigh of understanding went through the trees.

Jake saw a large thick trunked tree with damaged bark trying this movement. The twigs coming together and bunching and then entwining. Slowly a knot of twigs formed at the end of a branch then a mass then a great ball of twigs entwined at the end of another branch. Other trees mimicked this action.

“Use these fists to break windows. Do not hurt the occupants, the humans, not unless you yourself are in danger.” The trees did not respond. “You do know what windows are, don’t you?”

“Some of us do, vaguely!” ‘Corn announced. “But for this I will pass you over to our war leader, Trunk.” A branch waved towards the thick trunked tree with the damaged bark.

Why trees would have a war leader baffled Jake. How could they make war and on who? An answer appeared in his mind, just a vague one. Animals that would damage trees or other trees taking the territory of the oaks. Taking the ground near them, not leaving enough space to grow properly, for their roots to spread. How trees made war on each other though remained a mystery to Jake.

“Now, here is what we will do!” Jake said as Trunk came out accompanied by a sapling.

When the bulldozers and diggers rolled up at dawn they found Jake standing there blocking their path. Either side of him was a barrier of logs to impede their passage. It would not be so for long. These were machine vehicles who could move such obstacles in minutes.

Jake was not here to fight however. He was just to get in the way. As the driver of the lead bulldozer got out to remonstrate with Jake it happened.

The whole path here was an avenue of trees. Ones that would be due to be taken down later, elms, beech trees and larch and suchlike. They were not protected from demolition in any way, nor would ever be likely to be. Today’s job though was the ancient oaks. From these trees came the oaks, striding forth to attack the machine vehicles.

In seconds they were smashing the windows, releasing their fists and ripping out the instruments with their claw like twigs. Most were not wheeled vehicles like Jake had expected but tracked vehicles. Most of these oaks were twenty feet tall, some up to thirty. Sap, the oldest of the oaks was nearly forty foot tall. These were huge trees with tremendous power in their branches. The tracks were ripped or broken from their machines, in effect grounding them in place.

The drivers died to a man. Jake had told the trees not to attack the humans unless the trees were themselves in danger. Obviously, the oaks thought these men a danger to their community and killed them all. Hydraulic pipes were pierced so the machines could no longer function. Indeed even parts of the vehicles were separated into smaller pieces. Jake saw a terrified Forest Ranger watching from the tree-line. She looked petrified at the carnage happening in front of her.

“Excuse me lord.” A tree creaked to one side of Jake. “I am not an oak. I am an elm. Still, I would like to be under your protection. To be one of your subjects.”

Jake realised that this elm was speaking in the language of trees, unlike ‘Corn did and a few of the others who seemed to be able, in their way, to speak the human tongue.

“I am the God of the Oaks but I will accept all trees to be my subjects if that is what they wish. All they have but to do is ask.”

“To be a subject of Sapient, the God of the Oaks would greatly enhance my stature among the elms.” The tree told him.

Jake laughed and made motions with his arms. The lower trunk split slightly and now the tree had legs, when it wanted them. They reverted to just a split in the wood when the tree rooted itself firmly.

“You can walk and run. That will surely make you the leader of the elms if that is what you so wish.” Another motion of the hands, faster and more varied. “And now you can use the language of humans. You can talk to them if they are willing to listen.” Willing to listen and not run away, petrified they were having an hallucination. “In fact, if you can spy the girl over there, hiding and watching, I am pretty sure she will give up her wandering now and live here amongst the trees. When she gets over her fear of course. You see, she is a nature lover. She loves that above all things. Plants that can talk, trees that converse with humans, she would love that. She would never want to leave.”

“You are a nature lover too.” The elm told Jake and that got him laughing.

“Not me! I am not one to smell the roses. Mind you, I can see the good side of trees now, how polite and kind they can be.” As long as you were not driving a bulldozer that is.

“You would not say that if you met Hornbranch. Miserable old elm he is. The sap is running dry in him as we would say. Mind you he did survive the plague so he must be a good age.”

The plague, oh the elder oak tree had mentioned something like that. A disease that had killed all the elms surrounding him. This one, further away, must have not caught it. That would make him a few hundred years old though. Well, in the human world, you did get cantankerous old men and women.

“Take me to him.” Jake told the elm. “But not before you have told me your own name.”

“I am Sprig.” The elm said proudly, evidently pleased Jake had asked a lowly elm his name when in truth Jake was the God of the Oaks, not other trees.

Jake was taken to a tree. The bark was greyer than Sprig’s and the bark looked more worn down.

“This is Sapient, god of the oaks.” Sprig announced to the tree his branches swaying and creaking.

“He can go back to the Oaks then. Us elms have no need of Gods apart from her, Lavinia the Goddess of Nature.”

“Whose name be praised.” Jake said, in mock acclaim. “You do not have to follow me as a God. I just wished to speak to you.”

“Huh, puny mortal beings should not speak to us Regal Elms. I see no God, just a puny mortal.”

“On your own leaves be it.” Jake told him, letting a little mirth into his voice. “I could have given you back your youth, gave you legs to walk around the park with. Let you in that way meet all the trees, even those down by the duck pond. But you know best. I am just a puny mortal.”

Jake turned away.

“He can do those things.” Asked Hornbranch of Sprig.

“He gave me legs, he gave me human speech !” Exclaimed Sprig and then said as if to an idiot. “You are an old tree with no sap left in his trunk.”

“I will allow this. Just as a demonstration mind.” The tree almost seemed to groan a hollow groan as if the wind was bending his trunk just a little too far.

Laughing Jake put his hand to the bark of the trunk of the tree. It seemed to glow just around the hand. It happened slowly but it did happen. The bark grew slightly more brown, the branches grew just a little, leaves sprouted. The whole tree seemed to flex.

“My roots, I feel young again, like a yearling, like a sapling.” The tree bent and swayed. “Truly you are the God of Trees.”

It only took a finger click this time for the trunk to separate at the base and make legs, another finger flick and the tree could speak the human tongue.

“This one, Sprig, is your new leader. The first tree of the Elms in this region.” Jake told the old elm. “You are elder but he is leader. Without him you were a dried-up husk with a bad temper. Because of him, you are the largest elm and yet you have your youth. You can speak to humans if you care to, you can walk and talk and meet all the trees you want to, of whatever genus.”

“Yes Lord, what do you wish for this service. You are God of the Oaks, we are elms.” The elder elm seemed to speak with praise rather than sarcasm now.

“Just make sure the human female feels welcome.” Was all Jake asked. “She will treat you right.”

“But you will return here?” Sprig the elm asked, almost in desperation.

“I will return every so often to check on my oaks.” Jake told them then added. “I will be back more often if the female is here and welcomed.”

“Yes?” Hornbranch the older and wiser asked and then added with intuition. “Oh, you wish to pollenate with the female of your species?”

Pollenate? Oh, the birds and bees.

“No, yes, no. I simply wish her as a friend.” Yesses and noes were both correct in this sentence. He did wish to ‘pollenate’ with this female. More than that though, more important than that . . . was simply to have a friend for the first time in his life.

Jake returned to the oaks who were rejoicing. Their enemies were gone for now. Even if they came back, they would find oaks ready to defend themselves, indeed, ready to attack any wishing them harm.

The girl, the woman, for she was Jake’s sort of age, was off to side talking to Sap, the elder tree. She saw Jake and pounced.

“These trees can talk.” She pronounced.

“And walk and defend themselves.” She winced at this statement of his.

“They think you are their God!” She said emphatically and not in a pleasant manner.

Jake walked over to Sap and placed his hand on the tree’s trunk. It glowed, leaves and foliage sprouted from the twigs, the bark grew into a tan brown, branches grew. It was now as fully foliaged as it was in Summer.

“By the Goddess I feel young again. Me, the oldest tree in the shire. Young and vibrant.”

“You look it!” Jake said mildly.

“How did you do that?” The woman demanded.

“He is our God!” Stated Sap simply.

“I have a power over trees. Not just oaks but I helped out a couple of elms too. Some people are gardeners, others are theoretical mathematicians, I help trees.”

She wanted to believe, that was evident in her face. She just could not make that leap of faith. Even a talking tree could not quite convince her.

“I will be here twice a week at least, if you want to see more.” Jake told her and the trees upon hearing this waved their branches enthusiastically.

“Well, I am not leaving here. I will get a tent and camp here, amongst the trees. Now I can leave the trees for more than a few moments I can use the park’s toilets to clean myself up. I can go get all my clothing, such as it is. I can make myself look good again.” She paused as if to see the effect of her words on Jake. “Do come tomorrow!” She urged and then blushed and added. “I am sure the oaks would like that!”

With promises of return the next day Jake left the oaks to the tender care of Forest Ranger, forgetting he not even thought of asking her real name.

Using all those powers seemed to have drained him as he was dead tired on his walk home. Only the warmth of achievement gave his body life.

‘Was he a demi-god now?’ was the topic he thought of as an aid to walking, a distraction. By the time he arrived home, which seemed quick to him, he had worked out the answer. He was not a demi-god, only to trees. He now was a true hero with extra powers, one that had sway over part of nature. The start of his path to being a demi-god, maybe. As a hero, if he kept gaining powers, he would become more and more powerful and then he could ask the King of the Gods if he could be a demi-god, for it only in his purview to allow such things.

At home all he wanted was sleep, He flopped out on the bed without even taking his coat off.

He dreamt, no he was back in the realm of the gods, Britannia they had called it. Before him was Lavinia, Goddess of Nature.

“I promised you a boon, a further power of my type, if you succeeded in your mission. Not only did you succeed, you bought happiness to some of my creatures. I therefore give to you the power to talk to all plants. Whether a blade of grass or the tallest tree and all between, you can now talk to them all. That is a power than some minor gods would envy.”

It was. It might also help him make the Forest Ranger as a friend.

The goddess laughed.

“Make her your friend? Little Tru Benjamin? It will get you laid, my friend. Yes, my friend. We gods are not above such things as sex and love. We are not Gods who think perfection is divinity. We know better. Love, hate, anger, desire, all are felt by the Gods.” She told him, again divining his thoughts.

Getting laid would be good. He had never had a friend before, never a girlfriend, never a one-night-stand. Indeed, he was a virgin at 25 and thought he would remain that until the day he died. It had gnawed at his soul that fact, the desire to feel what others felt. The desire to make love to a woman and know what it truly felt like.

To be truthful though, just to have a friend, companionship would be good. Even if this Tru Benjamin the Forest Ranger did not care for his company, at least the trees would.

“She will like you. She may love you. She loves Nature, she believes in me when pagan religions are mocked in England. She does not believe in religion and solstices but she does believe in me as Mother Nature. She would not however believe you have met me.”

Damn this woman’s mind reading. There was the thought that went through his head that she should pick up on as easily if he had said it out loud.

She laughed merrily, her laugh like a tinkle of bells.

“Others need your help, or at least desire it. Go find The Blacksmith. He has a task for you that I think will fit in with your mortal talents, no special powers needed.” Again she laughed. “You heroes, always wanting more powers, wanting to become divine, even demi-god status would not fulfil you. You want to be a true god. A minor god would fulfil your ambitions for now and yet to come but that is far in the making. Even to be a demi-god you would have to show the King of Gods such devotion and such powers that he would be staggered.”

“Someone mention me?” Cathbhar, King of the Gods said, materialising in front of them.

“I was saying his next task should be for The Blacksmith. The reward should be heavy as he would gain no powers.”

“I concur.” Came the simple reply. “He is admirably talented for such a role, one such as he, Sapient, God of the Oaks.”

“So, have you always been King of the Gods?” Jake ventured daringly.

“No, my grandfather Turen before me was King. He killed my grandmother Los, threw her into the Sun and watched her burn. I fought him God to God and won and threw him and the Sun God, Menos into Besalt, that is our form of Hell. My grandfather, Turen, prospered there though and helped me a few times so I made him Ruler of Besalt, the Kingdom Below.”

“But surely your father . . . “

“My father tried to lead a rebellion against the dragons. My creatures. One had eaten my brother Septimus. It was no great loss. As the designer of worlds Septimus was no great help. He kept on forgetting things, like trees and seas.”

“He cast his own father down as he cast his grandfather.” The Goddess of Nature told Jake. “And two of his seven brothers and four of his eleven sisters. Being King of the Gods is no easy task. His Queen Mertia, Goddess of the Crops was never afraid of him though. Not until recently.”

“Let me guess, he is one for the ladies . . . as Zeus was and Jupiter after him.”

“Not so. He is faithful. He was once a lesser god, God of the Weather and Lightning. Now he is the Sun God too. It is his wife who has been unfaithful with the blacksmith no less. The one you will probably serve next.”

Mighty Quaid, the Blacksmith of the Gods, the huge eighteen-foot-tall God with massive bulk and huge muscles that showed even though his plain black robe. Yes, Jake remembered him.

“So why has the King of the Gods not struck down Quaid.”

The merry little laugh with the tinkle of bells in it came once again.

“Quaid is his best friend. In our realm and, usually in your world, it is the married person who had broken their vows. Quaid made no move on Mertia. She has pursued him relentlessly for decades, since she made a bet with the God of Prosperity, Airgid. He bet her that she would never be able to bed Quaid. Him being Cathbhar’s best friend . . .”

“The Gods do like to wager.” Cathbhar interrupted.

“So, it is down to your hell with her, whatever the name of it is.”

“Besalt?” Chuckled Cathbar. “Nothing so drastic. It was a wager. I am sure they both had a good time but now is the reckoning. I just hope her evening was worth it. Or maybe it is something she has wanted to do a long while. I could never get into the mind of my wife. She broke our wedding vows so I will just dissolve the marriage, that is all. Her punishment will be she is no longer Queen of the Gods. In time another will receive that title.”

“Do tell me the instant you dissolve the marriage.” Said Lavinia trying not to sound eager and failing. She then added coyly. “I am the Goddess of Nature. I would bear someone many children. I have already born six for just lovers.”

She then added to an aside to me.

“He only has one daughter. It would not matter if the child was a boy. Either would not be his heir. Here the Gods decide or fight it out.”

Whether it was her stunning good looks, or the promise of many children, the King of the Gods did look interested. He clicked his fingers and the humongous blacksmith was there.

“What do you want this time fatty?” Asked Quaid of the King of the Gods. A very rude comment thought Jake and held his breath.

“I was a plump child.” Explained Cathbar. “His nickname is runt as he was always twice the size of all the other children. A fact he hated as a child but suits him well for his profession.”

They really were best friends Jake thought.

“Well runt, did you not want a certain mortal matter worked out? This one sorted out Mother Nature’s problem and won her bet for her in style. About twenty humans died in the attack on the bulldozers.”

Jake was about to protest that was not his idea but suddenly knew that the loss of mortal life was nothing to the gods. It was like a human treading on an ant.

“I just hope they buried the bodies deep.” Jake said with a smile. “A police investigation that went near the grove would disturb the oaks.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Tru will keep the police out of the grove. After all what harm could trees do anyone?” Lavinia said with mirth. “He does get the job done, Quaid. Those bulldozers never got close to the grove. They were just up that pathway. And then lo and behold what does he do? He charms elms as well and changes them. Gives them youth and legs. Gives them mortal speech.”

“He will have no need of special powers with my job. Sapient he calls himself now? Truly that is just exactly what I need. Brains! Come with me mortal.”

As they walked together up a long wide road that looked to be paved with turquoise Quaid explained the job. He was not just blacksmith to the Gods, one and all. He was also the God of Smiths, all smiths from blacksmiths to silver smiths. Of course not many worshipped him now, in this modern world but those that did found they could create marvellous things.

Jake’s task was to buy a place and turn it into a smithy with four large forges. It would be a smithy to make replicas of ancient weapons. To hire people who could do such work. It would not be easy work as the replicas would have to be perfect, even the materials burned by the forges would have to be the same as they were in ancient days. Modern forges would be fuelled by coal. This would be an unlikely ingredient used in ancient days and in the ancient making of weapons.

Quaid had the plans of every weapon the mortals had ever made and plans of weapons he had made himself as well, some with his godly powers, some without. Four blacksmiths would be needed, true weaponsmiths who could create swords and maces and the like. Four assistant blacksmiths and four trainees. Maybe more. If the place were isolated it could work 24 hours a day. These weapons would not be the blunt katanas of today, of cheap and inferior make. They would be true collectors’ items. Each one a perfect replica of an ancient weapon, starting with those of the time of Henry the Eighth and working backwards all the way to the Celts. Before them, and the Romans, the weapons were of low quality anyway.

He, Jake, would be the owner of the company and he would take any profits from the company. The Gods had no use for mortal money. If there were losses incurred Quaid would take care of them. In fact, to start, the company would need substantial investment anyway. Could he please keep accounts? Not for the money but to show trust between them. Showing trust and breaking trust with the gods was a big thing.

“I wish I could accommodate you but I cannot. I have a job. The timescale I could allow for this enterprise would be an hour here and there and my days off. Some I could do over the internet I suppose. Hunting business premises etc but hunting for blacksmiths and testing them, that would take time.”

“You do not understand. You would leave your job and become owner of this . . . company . . . is that the word?” Quaid was not in the least upset by his words.

“Yes but that means I sacrifice my income and everything. I earn a good deal. It pays for the house I rent . . .”

“You still do not understand. You would take money from the company as . . .wages. I do not understand mortal money, would fifty thousand a year be enough?” Quaid informed him.

“Well . . .”

“Then double it!”

“I am in, I think.” Jake was trying not to show shock at possibly earning such a large amount of money. He thought he was hiding it well.

“And buy yourself a house near the company premises. Out of the money I give you. If I get this right, the company will own the house but you will own the company. Airgid the God of Prosperity did explain it all to me, even wrote it down but I do not understand mortal dealings with money, nor their desire for it.”

“OH! It is another bet?” Jake had to enquire for it would affect his future. Another god could be planning against him.

“No, any blacksmiths or weaponsmiths that follow me, grant me as their God, will get special forging skills unlike any other weaponsmith in the country. At present there are a few blacksmiths that worship me and they create great things, almost magically good, but they are few.”

“Oh, you wish worshippers. It will take some thinking about how to convince them to do that. Modern Earth, England, we are wary of Gods, especially gods we have never heard of.”

“I heard of your discussion with the Goddess of Nature. You should be greatly rewarded as you are receiving no special powers. For this, just for trying, you would receive the strength of the blacksmiths. Huge strength, maybe beyond mortal strength.”

Jake looked suspicious.

“After what time? You yourself just said no special powers.”

“After gaining my first worshipper.” The God replied without emotion.

Jake laughed inside.

“What would the huge arms of a blacksmith do to my body? Big it ain’t.”

The god considered this.

“The mortal body of any blacksmith you meet but with your features, so only mortal strength or strength beyond mortality but with your own body. Your arms would be the same, the strength in them would not. Your choice.”

“I would take the body of a blacksmith with their strength.” Jake said. He had always hated being puny. “As for your first follower, he is standing here.”

“I am the god of smiths of all types.” The god pointed out.

“Then I will be a trainee, an apprentice. If this is to be my work, I should learn it. I will have to learn some, or parts of it, just to know a good weaponsmith from a bad one.” The laugh from the god came out now in a bellow of mirth.

“Truly you live up to your name, Sapient, you are intelligence and wise. You took a problem and turned it into a riddle, solved that riddle and tricked a God. Yes, you are the right man for the job.” Silence for a second. “Look, pick, choose.” They had come to a puddle and the god waved his hands and big brawny men were moving as pictures. The puddle had become a viewing device.

The men were all big and brawny with well-muscled arms. There was one though . . .

“Him!”

It was a truly massive man, almost a giant. Nearly seven feet tall and barrel chested with arms bigger than Jake’s thighs.

“It is so.” And the god waved his hand, the puddle became a puddle. “Look!”

The puddle was oddly reflective. Although Jake had not noticed a thing happening to him, he had now changed into a giant of a man but had kept his own face, his own cropped hair, his own ears that stuck out, unfortunately.

“Who is your God?” Quaid, God of all the Smiths, asked.

“I thought your lot would be polytheistic, the worship of more than one god?” Jake checked carefully.

“It is so, as long as the other gods are in our region so to speak, one of our gods or goddesses.”

“Then I am yours. You are the god I worship. I will learn to be both a blacksmith and a weaponsmith.” Jake knelt and offered his hands palms outstretched. “Quaid, God of Smiths I humbly ask to be your follower to worship you each and every day of my life.”

For a hundred thousand pounds a year he would have worshipped a gnat but, with the bonus of this body, anything would have done.

Luckily this god could not read minds as the Mother Nature did.

Suddenly they were in a house, more than a mansion or a castle. They were in a truly massive room with a forge of epic proportions and tools all around the room. Giant sized tools for using at that forge. From every angle there were doors coming off that room leading to other chambers, Bed chambers, a study, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, stairs going up and stairs going down. Obviously this room was the focus of the mansion or castle.

Quaid went to the study and came back with two briefcases. One more like a suitcase but it fitted with the size of Jake’s new body. He went forward to Quaid and felt wobbly. This new body was huge in size and moved differently to his own. It was a mass of muscle not as lithe and quick as his old body.

“These are plans for weapons, recipes if you like, ways of making the weapons. Just a few to start with and a way to test the weaponsmiths, others smiths and trainees.” Quaid indicated the larger of the two suitcases. He then nodded to the other. “That contains finance details and allowances and mortal money. I do not understand it. It comes in little bits of paper and small books.”

Jake unclicked this case and checked. It contained a bankbook with two million pounds in the account. Bank statements. Contracts that evidently, through the power of the gods, he had already signed. One setting out a salary for him as owner of one hundred thousand pounds a year. Building accounts, tooling accounts, all sorts of documents to do with the financing of a company that had not even started yet. The company was called Weapons of the Gods PLC.

Even Jake knew that PLC was Public Limited Company or Private Limited Company. It restricted all debt to the company so the firm could go bankrupt but not hurt the finances of the owner.

“You are a god so do not understand mortal money and finance.” Jake said to his new god. “But I don’t understand these company documents either. They are beyond me. I am a lorry driver.”

“Go see the God of Prosperity. He knows all those sorts of things.” Quaid told Jake and just like that Jake was in what looked like a village square at a table. Airgid, God of Prosperity was drinking a cup of coffee. There was also one chair at the table on the god’s opposite side, presumably for Jake. He moved slowly to what had to be his side of the table. He had to move slowly, he was breaking in a new body. His movements were still erratic in this body as he had to get used to the height and the mass. He sat down and stared at the God. The God stared right back at him.

Jake sipped his coffee.

Wow! If this was coffee it was truly amazing, taste after taste touched his mouth and teased it outrageously.

Nectar of the Gods, modern style, with the added flavour of coffee.

“I will provide your company with wealthy customers for the fee of ten thousand pounds.” That was the opening sally of the God of Prosperity. He really understood mortal money, that was obvious.

“How many customers?” Enquired Jake suspiciously. This God would hoard his wealth, Jake was sure of that, always eager to gain more, maybe at the expense of foolish mortals.

“For that price ten rich customers.”

“Ten? More, many more.” Jake insisted.

“I could stretch to twenty for that price.” Ah, so they were bargaining.

“Even twenty would not do it. My job is to get qualified weaponsmiths to knock out replica weapons. Admittedly the replicas would be of a much higher standard than you could normally get in Britain. For a start they would be sharps, they are banned in Britain now. You are not supposed to be able to even collect sharp katanas. And they will be made as they were in the days they were used. So a fifteenth century sword would be made of the same metals and forged exactly the same way. That does not work out economically. I am supposed to have four weaponsmiths, four assistants and four trainees. A weaponsmith will cost me what? Fifty thousand a year? The assistants maybe thirty five, the trainees maybe twenty as they are learning a craft and getting paid for it. That makes . . .”

“Four hundred and twenty thousand in salaries not including your own fifty thousand as owner.”

“One hundred thousand.” I corrected. “So, five hundred thousand and twenty grand a year. We could make these weapons day and night and never come close to a profit, just massive losses. That is without the spoilage from each of the first makes.”

“Ah, I see your problem. It is not the business model, it is the way you are thinking. No, each of these weapons will be true collectors’ items. They are for the sort of collector with more money than sense. Each of these weapons will be between five and ten thousand pounds apiece. I make that, less than one hundred a year, to make up for salaries. See, it is possible, with the right buyers. Keep a varied stock with new items all the time and making two hundred weapons or more a year and you should make a profit. You will not recoup the original investment for a while but over a few years you will not only do that but take the company into a huge profit margin. Especially when the assistants are made up to full weaponsmiths and the trainees are made into assistants. You then turn the company into a two shift system to increase the output. The materials should not cost much. A true fraction of the price of the created weapon.”

Jake sat and thought it out and the God of Prosperity let him. The coffee that was the nectar of the gods did seem to help.

“Word of mouth from the initial collectors could make the company. So, a lot of initial investors would make all the difference.” Jake said with feeling, empathising certain of his words

The God smiled.

“For an initial investment of ten thousand I will send twenty five customers your way.”

“Make it thirty and you have a deal.”

“I will make it forty for twenty thousand.” Airgid told him. “I know the maths does not work out, customer wise, but think about it. With that many wealthy customers at the start, word of mouth will spread quicker if the product is good. And of course, wealthy customers are hard to find.”

Jake thought again.

“Fifty for twenty-five thousand.” He offered.

“Done. You worked the matter out truly now. I can see it on your face. Twenty-five thousand is nothing as an investment. Half the price of a weaponsmith . . .”

“And, in your position, you must know huge amounts of wealthy people.” Jake interjected. “There may not be many people who believe in normal Gods but a proven God of Prosperity would bring believers flocking to worship you.”

“I do have more worshippers than most of the other Gods. Second only to Lavinia. The pagans adore her. She is Mother Earth to them. However, that does not mean all my wealthy people collect very special weaponry. That is a niche market. Nor does it mean I can order them to buy these items if they do not want them. For that Quaid will have to offer me favour and he has not yet done so.”

“A niche market? Not for rich males. All would one want tucked away, hanging on a study wall or in some private room, handing there or just sat on a podium. These are highly collectable and would look good in any room. Just what rich males with too much money would love.” The God of Prosperity tilted his head slightly, maybe to show his agreement. “You must have hundreds or thousands of followers, no, worshippers, who would give up an amount of money that was tiny to them for such a thing, as say what looked like, an antique crossbow in every detail or a six-foot-long sword that looked to be five hundred years old.”

Airgid tilted his head again.

“You are good. Better than I expected . . .”

“And how many of your worshippers would buy from me if I became your subject, if I worshipped you as my god.”

The God of Prosperity looked shocked for a second and then smiled.

“You are the devotee of the blacksmith.” He pointed out.

“I can worship one god, I can worship five gods, I can worship you all as long as I show you the correct devotion.” Jake pointed out. “It is the beauty of a many god system.”

The God looked suitably impressed.

“Ah ! Let me guess, if you worshipped me with great devotion, you would expect me to help you in return.” Jake could tell this was a man of great business acumen and cunning. “You truly are worthy of being a hero of the Gods. But don’t think your fake belief would help you. Instead, I would show you my worth by giving you a task. If you managed that then I would show favour to you.”

There was the nub of it. Do his task and he would help Jake, probably through helping the company.

“It is a simple task but a vital one. It would show your devotion to me . . .” The God, in his robe that looked like crushed rubies, did say and then left the sentence hanging for a few seconds before continuing. “There is a scrap yard in your town called Bower’s . . .” Jake nodded to say he knew it. Everyone knew Bower’s. It was a place to get cheap second-hand parts for cars. Bower sold other things though, some dubious, some that just came his way. Bower was a fence, he sold stolen goods but he would buy anything if it was at the right price. “This man is a disciple of mine. He has in his possession . . . an item I want. He does not know the real value of this item. You are to purchase it and hand it along to another of my disciples who will offer it up to me in supplication. I will give you the money for it. If you do this, I will find you a person to help with all your conveyancing, both for your business and your own property that will be close to the company. She will deal with it all.”

“Isn’t that rather in the way of cheating Bower? If he is a disciple of yours . . .”

“He has offended me.” The God of Prosperity said this with some ire. So much anger was in his voice that Jake dare not ask what Boyer had done to annoy the God so much.

You angered a God in any way and you could expect their wrath, even if you did it unintentionally. Gods were like that. They had always been like that. You only had to know about the Greek Gods to understand that one.

“Surely though, either the person who is to receive the item or another of your . . . worshippers could do such a simple task.”

“For this simple task my female disciple will make your own tasks with the Blacksmith so much easier.” Was the only reply he got.

It was enough though. Jake knew little about buying and selling property. An expert person would do this quickly and easily and save him a lot of trouble. If . . .

“You are the God of Prosperity, your worshippers . . .” Jake left the thought unsaid.

“Oh, she will not cheat you. She will take a minor fee, say 1%. That is a tiny amount compared to what you would pay say an estate agent. She will not work through others. She will find the properties herself and do very good deals for you.”

Even Jake knew that 1% was a tiny amount. He did not know exactly how much an estate took but presumed it be over 5% per cent, maybe nearer ten.

There was something in the God’s look though that gave him pause for thought. He got out his old iPod to go online. Not surprisingly there was no signal. As he was above the clouds and in the land of the Gods this was not too much of a shock.

“You have me.” Airgid admitted though, sensing that Jake would check up. “Yes, her charging a percentage fee rather than a flat fee would have been to your deficit. Your mind is too good to play games with. You make a good hero in that respect. Our heroes have the muscles and the fighting skills but little matter in their thick skulls. I have to try these things though. I have to get good deals for my disciples or they will think I am weak. Who would worship a weak god?”

“You are acting for another God in this matter.” Jake reminded him.

“She will do it for the love of her god and I will reward her in some fashion.” Now the God looked up at the sun. “It is time for me to be off.” A thin folder appeared in his hand. “This contains details of my own deal.”

He then abruptly left.

Jake still had no idea on much of the weapon-smithing business he had been given. However at least, for one task, the first part of the job that of finding the properties, would be done for him. As this was one of the more difficult things for Jake to do it would be well worth doing a simple task.

#fiction #gods

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