Alcander: Day 118

The straightforwardness of the gods was, it seems, a lie. A trick in itself.

We were called to this city for a great battle. We were sent visions of this battle, of the men in black ships, of mighty blows and great wounding.

There was no damn battle. The black ships came, and there was no battle. They rode in and they conquered with barely an arrow fired.

Where were the gods, then? Why did the gods let the black ships control the minds of their followers when they needed them? All of those who came from all over to fight this battle, were they given an honorable death? No, of course not. The gods didn't guard their minds, let them go down fighting. The gods abandoned them, let their minds be stolen and let them walk placidly to their dooms.

There was no great battle.

Had there been, we would have missed it. While we were fighting whatever that thing was in the jungle, the gods let the battle happen without us. What battle there was, which there was not. The gods didn't even let us get here in time to die with the others.

But what if, in that, we failed the gods? What if we were to be the keys to victory, but we missed the battle? What if, had we not dallied, we could have been here, the gods would have been present, and we could have done something.

Like what? I don't know. Like have the gods abandon us, too, and be slaughtered like the rest. Had our minds wiped clean and gone to death.

We should have been here.

But we were not.

Perhaps out absence, too, was some plan of the gods. Perhaps the great battle we were shown was not an invasion, but a repulsion. A throwing out of the dark ships and their crews in the name of the gods.

But if that were so, those that marched to their death must be not dead. They must be here, somewhere. Buried in the keep. Waiting for some sign that the gods have not abandoned them. Waiting for rescue. Waiting for the agents of the gods to sweep into the keep and loose them.

Perhaps we have not missed the battle. Perhaps it is only that the responsibility of making the battle falls to us.

That could be. If it is, then my place is here. My place is here to raise an army among these people, to fight and die and cast out the invaders. To free those others trapped in the keep and let them loose to do righteous battle.

That may be true. It feels true.

And if I am wrong, what then?

If I am wrong, then our gods have played cruel tricks on us, abandoned us and left us to die.

If that is so, then we might as well fight and die here, because there is nothing left.