God of Eyes

It should go without saying that the generals didn't let this opportunity pass them by. Although they clearly weren't expecting it, within an hour of the start of the blaze five companies had hastily formed up and charged the enemy camp. The rest of our companies got to have a nice, sedate, hearty breakfast, after which they joined the fight and those who had jumped in early got to pull back. The enemy camp wasn't completely trashed by the initial assault... but the second one made them break immediately.

This time, the Olesport half-company got to join in as part of the second wave, though I think it was mostly for kicks; every commander I could see was a lot more relaxed than I'd seen them in days. Naturally, the auxilliary squads--and ours wasn't the only one--didn't have anything to do with the actual combat, instead rushing to help with the wounded. For quartermasters, that meant finding, unpacking, and distributing the medical supplies, so it's not like I wasn't busy... but I just couldn't stop watching the battle.

I could see a lot, but for the most part, I didn't know enough to make sense of it. Apart from the obvious panic in the enemy, there was something else hanging over their head. And also... there were a couple people on our side who were just standing around doing nothing.

Eventually, during a brief break, I focused once more on seeing the flow of magic, and that told me what I needed to know. The ones on our side standing around were mages of one sort or another... and the enemy had none. Ours... didn't look strong? I wasn't really sure how to judge them, not when my biggest reference point when it came to magical combat was gods smiting people, but they were clearly sitting there, waiting.

If our mages were waiting, I realized suddenly, they were expecting enemy mages. Their first job would probably be defensive--keep a mage that snuck up on the battle from taking out a squad or a company or whatever all at once, and then the mage or the ground forces would kick his teeth in. So they were expecting someone to appear on the flanks or something, and would react as soon as they arrived.

Somehow, they never did. I felt like the godly part of me knew that no help was coming for the enemy, but I simply couldn't spend the time to reconnect with myself and figure it out.

When the shouts of the battlefield gave way to a loud cheer, I got up on a supply wagon to see, and by all accounts, the battle was won at that point. We had a lot of captives, and the rest of the enemy that could move were well on their way to being out of sight. The enemy supplies were still on fire, but that was now our problem, a problem that our soldiers seemed delighted to solve, even if they were also happy to smugly take their time with it.

The aftermath of the battle was a lot busier than the lead-up to it. Several companies ended up standing guard over the captives, others went scouting, while the Olesport boys and girls, who were I guess something of the whipping dog of the army, ended up hauling any unburned supplies back to our stockpile. That left me and the other auxiliaries to sort through and distribute the enemy's food, medicine, tools, and so on.

That work, of course, went on long after everyone else settled into a routine. Many of the barrels and boxes and sacks were partially burned, so we had to transfer supplies carefully. Again, my gift of eyes probably helped more than anyone else would know, as I could reliable shout at people before they spilled things rather than after, even when my back was turned.

I probably should have worried about how much soulflame I was using, but... it didn't feel urgent, and I wasn't exactly running low.

In late morning, without warning, I got a sudden influx of flame, and a decent chunk of it was golden. I took a moment to get on top of a stack of supplies and looked around, finally locating my vicar at the command center, surrounded by several commanders and a large number of other soldiers. I could have been mistaken, but they all looked rapt, like they were listening to a great story being told.

I hoped someday to hear it, but spun around to yell at another soldier who was about to trip and drop his end of a heavy box.

We were mostly done with the supplies by mid-afternoon, and I got to listen to the rumor mill. Apparently my vicar's name was Raine, and she had, in the middle of the night, gone into the enemy camp, assassinated a very experienced mage, and set their supplies on fire, all on her own. The generals were furious that she went off on her own, and assigned her punishment duty, but everyone agreed it was a slap on the wrist--to make sure others didn't think that they would get away with doing the same. Which, okay, fair.

The rumor mill didn't discuss her being a vicar, and therefore didn't mention me. There was no talk of angels, supernatural abilities, nor anything else. I suppose in the end, that's a good thing for Raine's reputation, just like it was good for my reputation that nobody knew how I could see so much. Somehow, people using their imagination must come up with better answer than me being a literal god in the flesh walking around and keeping their supplies secure.

Whatever, right?

After dinner, Raine herself sought me out. I got a hint that she was coming--a sense that she was using my own power to find me, although I doubted she understood who I was. It did make me wonder how exactly I was going to hide that from her, but... hopefully that would be a problem for another day. She'd had a long day and it's not like I was using my godly body around camp.

So it was that I finally got to meet her for real, as I sat there drained on an empty crate not far from the cook fires, with a good load of goat soup in my stomach. I looked up as soon as I sensed she was close, and she met my eyes, so I patted the box next to me and scootched over to make room.

She sat, and I could feel the exhaustion struggling to catch up with her. It hung like a thick fog around the woman, who had been up and active since yesterday.

"I heard you're quite the star now," I started to say, when she cut me off.

"What exactly are you?" She kept her voice low, and I turned to look at her, but she was staring at the fire.

I... wasn't sure how to handle that question. I didn't like lying. "I am," I said after a moment, "a bit special."

I waited to see if she reacted, but she just kept waiting, patiently. So I shrugged. "I don't... know exactly. I thought I met god in the wilderness. I thought I was being followed, protected, by Xethram, God of Eyes." I didn't have to look to tell she wasn't exactly buying it. "That in and of itself is unbelievable enough. Back then I thought I was losing my mind. What do you want me to say? Isn't it clear that a God is watching out for me?" That was true enough, in its own way.

"You Saw me," she said. I had to think back, because it had been a long day, but yes, I did, and I nodded to myself. "I could feel your eyes. I could feel their eyes. That is how I survived. I knew when they were watching. I knew when they were not. I could tell which eyes were tired and which were sharp. Since I returned to camp, I can feel when people respect me, and when they don't. I can feel eyes on my back that want to kill me, beat me, string me up for being human... rape me, abuse me, for being a woman." She snarled. "I hate this feeling."

"I bet."

"So let me ask you again." She turned to look at me. "Who are you? What's happening to me?"

"I don't think I had much to do with what's happening to you," I said quietly. "But if I have a god watching over my shoulder, you at least have an angel, an angel of Eyes that has granted you a powerful gift. And hate the gift if you must, but would you rather be surprised? Would you rather be unprepared? No," I answered for her. "The truth is awful. Seeing it is just uncomfortable."

Raine was quiet for a long time. "You knew, didn't you? Back then?"

"I... saw something." True, but deceptive.

Raine wrung her hands for a minute, then clasped them together. She was lost in thought, and I let her be. After a long minute, very quietly, she said, "You're more than a god, aren't you?"

Surprised as I was, I could only laugh. "How would one be more?"

"There is something else. Something deep. I don't know."

That did surprise me, and I turned to look at her. I had to... mostly ignore Tammy's Eye, which to my godly vision seemed to float on Raine's forehead, large and unblinking, swiveling back and forth a bit. While I appreciated the third-eye metaphor, and could understand the utility of knowing what she was doing, it was unnerving to watch, even for me. "You," I said quite directly, "have quite a gift, young lady. Tammy too, of course; she offers her gift to you, on behalf of her god. But you... to understand things, accept them, that is a gift too. One perhaps too rare in this world." I stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't let it go to waste."

Then, uncomfortable as I was being outed even by my own vicar, I went back to my bedroll and sat in quiet meditation. Even for me, it was just a bit too early to go to sleep, but I wanted to check in with my other half.

It was... a little strange.

First of all, my flame jar was nearing full again. From what I could tell, it was expanding a little bit at a time, but if I received too much more, I would probably feel unpleasantly full. It would be better to find something do with it rather than sit on this bounty, I decided, although I wasn't entirely sure what.

Second, the restless crowd at the base of the cliff, the crowd that was supposed to be a metaphor for my followers... it had grown, but the terrain around them had also changed. There was a clearing with something like an altar, which was clear as far as metaphors go. Some of the people were closer to the altar than others, but more to the point, the edges of the clearing were still lined with brush and trees, and some people seemed to be out there rather than in with the crowd. Whether that was supposed to mean they were followers but "lost", or whether that meant they were only half interested in being followers in the first place, I wasn't sure.

As I studied them, I noticed that at least two or three of the people down there didn't have closed eyes--metaphor, again, for how aware they were of, either of me or of the Little God's Room. Which, though? Were they likely to see something on accident? I wasn't sure whether the "me" that I was walking around in that room looked like me or my avatar. I wasn't sure I wanted people to look around in a god's room and see... me. Raine knowing (or maybe just suspecting, but I didn't exactly deny it) that I was a god was bad enough... right?

That brought to mind the fact that Lucile--Alanna--had expressly forbidden me from letting people know I was a god walking around in the flesh. It's not like I went out of my way to advertise it, but I supposed I had to make sure Raine knew not to talk about it. Then, she was clever, and probably would assume I had my reasons for hiding it, right?

Speaking of Raine, she was... sitting on the altar. So was Tammy; they were back to back, with Tammy having open eyes and Raine's mostly being closed. Tammy herself was a bit ethereal, and she had kind of an aura/halo thing going on, the two combined clearly indicating that she was a holy ghost. Which... was fine. I wasn't sure what to think of them sitting on the altar, though; it struck me as a bit sacrilegious, in principle. Neither of them was bowing, kneeling, or even standing next to it. Instead of showing respect, they just... were there. Resting on my power.

Which I guess, metaphorically speaking, was probably true. Was I too flippant in giving away my power? Should I set some kind of boundaries? I had no intention of making my followers literally bow and scrape in order to get any scrap of power, but on the other hand, it was probably a bad idea to just let them do whatever, at least while it was my name they were dragging around with them. Then again... what if they weren't going to be using my name at all? I hadn't exactly demanded it... not yet.

For the first time since I'd been reincarnated--but not the first time ever--I regretted that I had never been a parent. It would be nice to have watched someone grow, to see the effects of discipline versus leniency, and so on. As it is, I could only guess.

In the meantime, with at least a little bit of extra flame, I figured it was time to have my deific body--Avatar, the old gods had called it--live in something a little nicer than a wet cave.