Ofantasy novels, adventure storybooksBlacksmith of the Apocalypse,531. Superstition, Fear, and Arrogance,r-o-o-k-i-e

  --Cinema dimension-

  "What a beautiful little bird," Apollo exclaimed.

  Apollo leaned over to his left, to whisper to Hermes With Seth's entry to Hyperborea, the god of sunlight obviously joined them. After all, this was kind of a bet between them and it was a lot more interesting to watch together.

  He really made this himself?" he asked intrigued.

  Although he was not a god of craftsmen like Hephaestus, he was still a god of the fine arts. He could appreciate a beautiful and functional design.

  "Aww, I bet he did, but I missed the crafting." Hermes lamented.

  Even though he was also a god of Olympus, he was not given a discount. The messenger god had to work to earn his watch time. He didn't have the kind of income of divine energy to just stay all the time.

  "on that note, Can't you give your cute nephew a discount uncle?" he asked Hades cheekily.

  The god of the underworld simply ignored him and focused on Persephone sitting beside him. The fact that Apollo had given a mortal with the support of the other gods a divine task was a popular topic among the Olympians. It resulted in a bunch of new faces among the audience.

  Hephaestus only chuckled at Hermes making puppy eyes at him.

  "Seth?" he asked meekly.

  The was a slight hope since they had bonded during their exile in the System God's Locker. A friendship had bloomed over beating up Zarkon together. However, the rough-looking man avoided his puppy eyes.

  "Business knows no friendship. Seth is the only champion I have on Urth, so I won't give any benefits," he said pressing.

  Apollo couldn't help but chuckle at his little brother acting cute.

  "Don't worry, I will make sure you can watch the whole trial, at least." he offered to pay for him this time around.

  "Yesh! Thank you, elder brother!"

  …

  "So you are looking for Scorpio." the village chief pondered after Seth explained his situation.

  After the guard's little joke, he directly led him to see the elder. Hyperborea didn't get a lot of visitors, but those who came usually had a divine mission or were gods themselves. Since this was so important the guard shirked everything to the village chief as quickly as possible.

  "I'm sorry, but I can't help you with that. Scorpio is not usually on Hyperborea. If it appeared, a rural village like ours would hear about it last." the old man explained apologetically.

  "Then are there other places where I can look for information?"

  "Of course. If you follow the path to the south, you will soon reach a road. If you take the right path you will reach the city of Dawn. One of the three big cities of the island. I'm sure they can help you there." he said amicably.

  "South, you say?" the blacksmith was a little perturbed by the direction, but he understood when he looked at his .

  He saw the silhouette of Hyperborea and the path he had taken. Although he knew for a fact that he was traveling north when he left Urth's shore, he had also reached the island from its northern side. So either he had crossed the north pole, or he was a little switched around when being transported.

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  It made sense, but it still confused the blacksmith a little. The old man also told him about the other cities. Dawn in the east, Day in the south, and Dusk in the west, he felt the naming sense a little childish, but it also made sense as it was the home of Apollo, the god of sunlight.

  At least, it was easy to memorize. If he didn't find the answers he need in Dawn, he could travel further to Day and Dusk. This way he would have covered three of the cardinal directions. If he still didn't find anything on Scorpio, he knew that it would probably be in the north.

  "Thank you for the explanation. Then I will be leaving, Village Chief." Seth said his farewells and left the village towards the south. It had become a sunny day and a salty breeze kept brushing through the grass and trees.

  As the elder had said, after the path that led to the village he came to a wide road. It was a properly bricked road for wagons and carts. Seth once again realized how quaint everything here was. The day was so beautiful that... the blacksmith got suspicious.

  Everything was so nice... it started making him feel bothered. Like a piece of clothes that didn't quite fit.

  ~Puffles, let's hurry~ he called the Ivicer but nothing happened.

  Neither Puffles nor Tatzel answered his call. He was just deliberating whether he should go on as if he didn't notice anything, or bring out his weapons when a figure appeared on the road.

  "You noticed the illusion, but you are already walked too far in," it said.

  An illusion? It had to be a strong one to block his telepathy and the option of the necklace to see through illusions.

  It was a satyr with the upper half of a human and the lower half of a goat. His burly chest, covered in coarse carpet was comically disproportionate to the tiny-looking goat legs.

  "What do you want?" Seth decided to try and talk first.

  "I am Gleobem, the satyr minstrel. Nice to meet you, too. I want nothing much. I wander the land to find musicians to lock horns with. Do you play an instrument?" the satyr asked, showing off his panpipes.

  A battle of music? With a satyr? This seemed like a reoccurring theme, especially in the stories of Apollo. Was this planned? Or simply his bad luck to run into this?

  "Why should I agree to have a match with you?" the bard asked warily.

  "If you want to get out of the illusion you have to beat me in a match. If you win I will give you my most prized possession, my pipes. And if you lose, I will take one of your most prized possessions."

  "So much for just furthering his horizons." Seth thought to himself. The satyr was nothing but a petty thief who robbed people under the pretense of musical exchange. He wouldn't play by the robber's rules.

  "And?"

  "And what?" Gleobem asked.

  "What else? I have no interest in your instrument, and whatever I possess is worth a lot more than that. Unless you offer a good prize, I won't agree. Just let me go." Seth demanded flat out.

  "I have nothing else. A minstrel is free and unfettered. I have no worldly possession but my instrument." the satyr said contrived.

  "Right, you would do the world a big favor if you wore a pair of pants..."

  "Enough. I do not have anything else to give you. Accept the challenge or I won't lift the illusion!"

  "Only on one condition. I will take the most valuable thing you possess if you lose. Deal?" Seth asked with a malicious smile. So much for the "musical exchange. The blacksmith decided to truly widen his horizons.

  "Good! As long as you accept! Haha!"

  With a triumphant laugh, the satyr started to sing a light and sensible tune with a voice so clear and beautiful it didn't fit his rough exterior. In between, he would play his flute. Gleobem's music painted a picture of clear streams and an open sky. Soothing meadows on a summer morning.

  Seth wanted to puke. Was this what normal bards sounded like..? Or was it just the Satyr's ancient style?

  "Huff. I'm done. Your turn!" he said with a grin showing his goat-like teeth.

  The blacksmith looked at him coldly.

  "Superstition, fear, and arrogance..." he said solemnly in the dark demonic language.

  Oz appeared, but instead of playing himself, Seth started torturing his strings.

  …

  The day suddenly darkened as a language he couldn't understand suddenly grasped his mind. Gleobem felt his hair rising and couldn't stop his knees from shaking.

  The tormented cries of the lyre filled his skull and were much darker and more powerful than any lyre sound he ever heard. Every time he hit the frame of the lyre like a drum, made the satyr twitch to the beat.

  He didn't know the words, but the music that broke its way into his consciousness with the intensity of a sledgehammer started forming words in his overstimulated brain.

  "Dead I am the one,

  Exterminating son.

  Slamming through the teeth,

  Strangling the breeze."

  The intent was, and the picture transmitted by the music were so clear that his breath became labored and his teeth started hurting as if he was beaten.

  "Dig through the ditches, and burn through the riches. I stab in the back of your jugular."

  Feeling his head becoming woozy, the Satyr slowly kneeled down. He could only look up at the man towering over him, scarring the world with his music.

531. Superstition, Fear, and Arrogance

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