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Shade Sovereign
Avalar Explored 05

Deacon Frost
 What came before

Jace and his companions searched the world below the

Tempest Sea in an effort to reclaim the Eye of Chaos from the Deep
One. While they scoured the underground caves, they ran into

beings they’d never known existed.

On the surface, The Saltwater’s Weep navy closed upon their

position, and Captain Issenrad found himself betrayed by the
Warlord and his minions. Issenrad and his ship had been
transformed in the name of expediency, yet the Captain sailed his

vessel the Scourge directly into the heart of the Tempest in their
effort to capture Jace.

Traveling further down the path of divinity, Jace’s powers

continued to grow. The loyalty and love of his party came to a head

as his transformations presented them the opportunity to gain new,

unique Classes. Each claimed their own position of power as the

Handmaidens of Azazel the Tempter.

Repudiated by the abominations from another Realm, Betty

Friday lost the last vestiges of control and traveled to the Deep One
herself, intent on killing Jace and proving that she deserved to regain

the power that had been stripped from her.

The Warlord made his own bargain with the abominable

creatures and vowed to soak Saltwater’s Weep in blood if it would

give him the power he required to set himself above the world. As
his city drowned in carnage, the elf was born anew as the leader of

a new species of monstrous sentients. His nobles gladly joined in the

slaughter to reap their own rewards.

Beneath the seas, Jace finally came face to face with the

architect of so many of his troubles. His vengeance came swift and

brutal—he proved how far he had outgrown the power they had

once held over him. That moment demanded that Jace choose

whether to embrace the path of personal power, or reinforce the

laws of Avalar. Jace chose to side with the gods above and slew the

Deep One, receiving a significant boost in power as a result.

Their journey back to Izul was marred by the forces of the

Warlord waiting on the seas beyond the Tempest. The battle against

the enemy fleet took all they had to survive—but ended when Jace

removed the Stormrunner from Avalar entirely and traveled into the

Shadow Realm. They carried with them the artifact that Sil, Queen

of Izul had sent them for.

 Free of the restrictions placed on him by his existence on

Avalar, Jace was given a moment to truly experience what his

divinity meant. Now, he had a new perspective.

 Chapter 1

The oceans of the Shadow Realm seemed a peaceful place at

first. Jace’s dominion over the darkness felt absolute. He could move

the waves and the very air with his will. The enervating presence of
the shadows did not harm him at all, and he was glad to give his
party a chance to rest within his domain.

Closing his eyes, he saw them as they slept and rested. The
Shade Soldiers that patrolled Azazel’s Realm had the castle secured,

so he used a whisper of his mental influence to have the Artisans

and the Crafters begin assembling simple food for when his loves
woke.

There is no resistance to my power here. No walls keeping

me from exerting myself, and no sense that the Universe is fighting
back, he thought.

The Stormrunner bobbed on the obsidian ocean as his power

pushed them toward the Izul Isles. The creatures of the plane

seemed to sense his presence—even the more powerful specimens

like the tentacled krakens suddenly swerved and dove to leave his
aura.
 After a few minutes, he noticed the lack of notifications. A

frown crossed his lips as he fell into a meditative trance. Jace’s first

concern was that he had damaged their connection to the Universe

when he held back the experience they were gaining. Tracing their

patterns with his Divine Sight, however, revealed that their natures

were strong and clear.

The blockage happened beyond him. He saw a haze of divine

energy forming a barricade to his perception and forbidding his gaze

from going further.

Some deities have blocked us from the Universe, he thought

as he opened his eyes. Jace frowned and debated what he might do

to deal with that. Despite his own power, he was fully aware that he

was still a weak being by godly standards.

He opened his true character sheet to look at it.

Name: Jace Blackbriar Divine Name:

Azazel the Tempter
Race: God (minor) Class: Skills:
Shade
Sovereign
Level: 30
Strength 20 Brawl 5
Dexterity 20 Level: 30 Woodcraft 20
Constitution 30 XP: Leatherwork
53,380 / 20
Intelligence 20 66,000 Sewing 10
Wisdom 20 Titles: Cooking 10
Charisma 40 Soul Smithing 50
(45) Anchor
Divine Form Father of Deception 30
Domain of Lust Dragons
Stealth 30
Domain of Night Awareness
Night’s Paragon 35
Seduction 30
Archery 30
Small Blades
15
Arcane
Knowledge
45
Long Blades
45
Sailing 35
HP 1200 Masonry 30
MP 2350
DP 1050 Spells:
God (minor) 1 Start Fire
Understanding: The ability to Charm
speak and understand any Caress
sentient language
Bolt
(Shadow)
 “I should have leveled by now. There’s no way defeating the

Warlord’s ships and taking the Stormrunner to a new realm wouldn’t

have gained experience. Perhaps not the full fifteen thousand, but at
least some.”

His study of his own pattern revealed something… odd. A

detached portion of his own nature. When he wrapped his

awareness around the pattern and began to study it, he saw that it
connected to the Titles that were part of his being. One had been
severed so cleanly he had no memory of it at all.

Titanslayer, the Title he’d gained for defeating the creature

in the Dungeon of Descending Chaos. Why is this torn away from

the rest of my pattern? Try as he might, he couldn’t isolate anything
he had done that might have severed the reward.

A closer examination revealed other traces of connections

that had been cut clean. There were Skills he had once had, which
were now removed. The near entirety of his incubus abilities, his
wings, choices he had made in response to Quests. Avalar retained

echoes of them all, yet they’d been severed from him.

He tentatively touched one of the cuts with his Divine Pool

and recoiled. Foreign DP coated the edges—a blend of numerous
deities, if he guessed right. To try and mend the barriers would
mean fighting the full power of those gods.

“Does this mean a god separated the Title from me?” he

asked aloud.

Jace leaned back against the steering wheel and considered

the situation. He knew the gods could alter the patterns of others,
since that was the foundation of Avalar’s existence. He had studied

enough of his own pattern now to grasp that the godly weave
around Avalar was a consensus of laws created by the gods.

To integrate into the system helps guide the rise in power,

and to break free of it places a being in the realm of those
abominations like the Deep One.

He pursed his lips. “I’m a god myself, so doesn’t that mean I

should be able to inject my will into the vast pattern around Avalar?”

As if his musings were a clue, he suddenly realized he could

feel tethers leading back to Avalar. He sent his Divine Sight moving
down along those lines and became aware of the base they had built
on Izul. Azazel’s First Seal pulsed with his power and the Shrine

sank his influence into the land like the roots of a tree.
 The first thing he saw was the Midnight Minions he had cast

into the spike to serve the crew of the Emerald Siren. He pushed a
little of his energy into them, willing them to rise in power to match
what he could create now. The spell resisted, but a pulse of DP

cracked the barrier and the dark forms writhed for a moment.

When the transformation faded, the constructs resembled

slim draconic beings with long tails, clawed fingers and toes, and
glowing purple eyes. They went about their errands as though

nothing had happened—yet Jace felt a pulse from the Shrine that
told him his followers had received some kind of message.

Izul wasn’t the only location where he had followers; another

line drew him to the Dungeon of Descending Chaos. The orcs he had

left behind seemed to rule the entire floor now. He saw they had
built a strong town with powerful defenses. The Shrine they had

begun now appeared more like a true Church to Jace—and when he

touched it with his power, the stones transformed.

Carved granite shifted until it was as black as night and veins

of purple wafted through. The structure hardened, and then

solidified into a single piece. It was a simple-enough affair: a square

building with a steepled roof and a few smaller rooms to the sides.
After he touched it, the place radiated a power that began swarming

him.

His Priestess, the Chieftain of the tribe, dropped to her knees

in worship. Jace felt the thick rope that bound her to the new
Church. As he studied her, he saw energy pulsing from her into him,
then witnessed his DP tick higher.

She’s feeding me. Her worship is rebuilding my power… He let

that same power slide down the lines connecting them, and when he

saw the inside of her pattern, he noticed things he could change.

Jace looked at the pieces of his own pattern he could no

longer touch and felt a kind of gravity between himself and her. He

mentally pushed the wings he had severed toward her. He desired a

test of the sacrifice he had made to give his followers the ability to

fly.

Can I make it more than temporary?

A brush of DP and that demonic pattern latched onto the

woman. She arched and collapsed. He watched as she writhed,

screaming on the floor. Agony gripped her and he felt for her—but

when her skin turned a deep purple and wings unfurled from her

back, he didn’t feel too bad: he had succeeded.

 Every line in her body was marked with beauty and power. He
saw the pattern reflected a significant boost in her Dexterity and

Charisma, and that she had gained immortality. He had created a

demon in his own image.

She rose to her feet and pushed her hair back from her face.

Her rugged features hadn’t softened—they’d been enhanced into a

stern beauty that somehow blended with the youth he had

forgotten.

She called, and a pair of men came running. Their jaws

dropped the moment they saw her, but she didn’t pause before

commanding them to strip. Jace laughed to himself as they scurried

to perform her bidding. He sent a pulse of his power into the altar
behind the group and watched as it transformed into a slab of purple

stone that resembled a bed.

Good for them, hope they have fun, he thought before

bringing his attention back to the Shadow Realm.

He expected to be tired, or even in severe pain from exerting

his will. He wasn’t. If anything, the exhaustion and mental fatigue

from his battles on Avalar had fallen away. He stretched and shifted
at the realization that without the chains of Avalar’s laws, using his

powers was simple.

“They required me to take a vessel because my powers

jeopardized the world if unchecked, but I hadn’t realized how badly

the gods had hampered my ability to grow there,” he said. He looked

at the sky, realizing he had fallen back into the pattern of talking to

himself.

If his divine abilities were so easy to use here, it made sense

to put them to good use. He shifted his posture until he was in the

most comfortable position he could manage, then willed the

shadows around the ship to form an impenetrable barrier.

He checked Azazel’s Realm again, but it didn’t seem as

though his lovers would wake any time soon. Studying them as they
lay within the center of his power, however, gave him new insights

into their being.

Each of them housed a small echo of his pattern. A potential

rebirth, should he die. From that small pattern emerged shadow

energies that bled into their bodies and remade them into beings in
tune with his nature. They might not be in danger here, he realized.

They were part of the shadows now.

 Jace wasn’t content with the idea he might lose them in their
efforts to bring him back. The ability to rise from oblivion was

meaningless without his lovers. He saw their souls were bound to

Azazel’s Realm—their destination, should they die. He didn’t want

them to face whatever ordeal death and rebirth might entail.

Carefully, very carefully, Jace began to gather whispers of

patterns from all around them. He examined who they were, what
they were. The Midnight General, the Ebon Admiral, the Vengeance

Blade, the Shadow Queen, the Witch Queen—his lovers. They were

all unique, and each bore a Class no one else had.

His anchor point rested as a divine seed inside them, and so

he began to weave their patterns into it. He took care not to change
anything he didn’t have to. But he breathed DP into their existence

until their patterns pulsed faintly with the same purple energy his

did. Sil had said something about Jace being able to raise his loves

to divinity to join him. That was what he hoped for.

Azazel’s Realm quaked faintly. Jace was aware of the souls of

all the deceased dragons bursting into flight and circling. The
sleeping god that had once ruled them opened his eyes and yawned.

Then, the great beast sent a flood of divine energy through the

entire plane.
 Jace braced himself, thinking it was an attack—yet it was

anything but. Before his eyes, that great dragon shrank down until

he was a mere egg lying among the rocks. An egg which looked
eerily familiar.

The egg embedded in Nicolette’s palm faded and a bundle of

power drifted back along the dragon’s energy until it merged with

the fallen god. The shell hardened and then began to throb, and

Jace flinched back as the dragon souls began to swirl in a wild flock
around the object.

Can’t focus on that, have to pay attention to them, he

commanded himself. Jace pulled his awareness down until he was
looking at the sleeping women. The infusion of DP from the dragon

had crystalized his lovers’ patterns and expanded them. The women

glowed with energy and thick lines bound them to Jace.

He felt the energy begin to radiate from him to them, them to

each other, and then back into him. The newly formed web of power
soaked into the dragon’s DP and grew stronger, fiercer. Then. with a

mental snap, everything seemed to lock into place.

Jace felt the web of divine will that was blocking him from the
greater Universe rock as though a hammer had struck it. The greater
existence wanted to respond to what he had done—the powers of
the gods denied it.

Jace grinned when he realized that the gods were also taking
whatever backlash he might face. He felt the damage spread across

their web and let out a laugh.

“Alright, you want to deny me my due? You want to hold us

back from our power? Then shoulder the consequences for me!” he

yelled at the sky with a laugh.

Jace sent his DP thrumming into the Stormrunner and

grabbed hold of the ship and its Minions. He began to weave his

power into every iota of the ship’s existence, and its draconic nature
responded. He let the vessel shift and warp as it became the same

sleek vessel Ana had called into being with her own ability.

The bones darkened to black, and the scales gained tints of

purple to mesh with their dark blues. The leathery skin that made up

the sails faded to a dusky gray, and the portals that were meant to

house the cannons he had created shifted to become true, armored

redoubts.

The draconic sailors grew more defined, more corporeal until

the scales on their bodies were visible. The purple glow in their eyes
ignited, and when they opened their mouths, a lavender glow

radiated from their throats.

They weren’t alive—not sentient—but they were close. Each

one of them now possessed Jace’s accumulated Skills. Shadow

swords and bows formed on weapon racks, allowing them to defend

the ship. Jace snapped the bindings that prevented them from

accessing his combat Skills.

The Stormrunner was his… and now it could protect itself.

When the dragon head mounted on their bow opened its jaws

and roared, Jace couldn’t help but smile. The ship had awoken, and
seemingly in response, it spewed a blend of lightning and shadows

into the air. The ship greeted him and he felt it binding tightly to

him; through him, it locked onto Ana until the two were nearly

entwined. The ship bonded to her pattern with its own.

Similar bindings took place between Selene and the Guardians

of the Realm. They seemed to blend into her, and then divide into

their own again. Faster than he could follow, his Domain and the
new web he had created between them all began to link itself
together.
 Jace reeled—not in pain, but simply because the stimulus was
more than he could follow.

Finally, the wall between himself and the Universe came

apart. A notification blazed in gold, black, and purple into his mind.
Universal Announcement
The Pantheon of Shadows and Sin has risen. Azazel
the Tempter has lifted his wives to his side and revealed
their divinity. Let the Universe tremble as a new Pantheon is
born, and let them be wary of those who would seek to
bring it down.
 Outside Avalar

Space and time rocked as the neutral arena maintained by the

gods was shaken down to its very foundations. Cracks and blemishes

appeared—something was challenging their existence. The

representatives of the other Pantheons braced themselves as reality

fought back against the actions of one of their number.

“This is why you cannot stop the laws from applying!” roared

the god of Beasts. The huge boar’s limbs were splayed to keep it
balanced and its massive body swayed with the power that was
trembling the world around them.

It would be hard for a mortal mind to grasp cracks in an

empty expanse. The broken lines of reality twisted and snaked into

lightning-like patterns that absorbed light in an ominous fashion. The

armored warrior from the Pantheon of Order raised his gauntlet and

a huge spear formed within his grip.

“Violation of the Universal order cannot be tolerated. You

have gone too far, Purity. Now we have no recourse but to summon

the aggrieved and seek to make amends,” he rumbled in a tone that

brooked no compromise.
 “You damned impulsive fool!” screeched the raven-headed

goddess from the Pantheon of Darkness. “None of us can claim him

for our Pantheons now! He has forged his own and lived, thanks to
your reckless meddling. What leverage will we have over him now?”

A massive form seemed to shift, and as a shadow passed

over the gods, the blank space calmed. Cracks began to mend as

new energy swelled into them. Reality remained damaged, but the

mended lines began to fade slowly.

“He’s returned the Eye of Chaos to the dragons of

Izul… Izul himself will be reborn in time. The Pantheon of
Shadow and Sin will be beloved by the oldest race…” came a
whisper through each god’s consciousness.

The untouchable gods, immortals standing outside reality in a

realm where nothing could hurt them… froze. The armored warrior,

the mighty boar, the raven-headed priestess, even the irate maiden

of purity and light—all held still as the shadow passed over them.

Wings vaster than comprehension flapped, and a serpentine

form glided in a slow circle for a moment. The being was difficult to

comprehend, even for the gods. The ancient dragons were said to

have created the Universe.

 Beings of pure magic and condensed power—legend had it

they’d had to layer laws upon reality to keep it from collapsing when

they moved. Most gods believed the great ones had left to find a
new reality to explore.

The shape that had casually rebuilt the Universe around the

gods cared nothing for what others believed. A name formed in their

minds. Pattern. The elder one regarded them just as one might stare

at children.

“Your games upon the surface of Avalar have led to a

situation where the creatures we have banished now walk
among mortals. You have squabbled, as well as bent and
twisted the rules to benefit your favored races… and that is
natural. We have ignored it as we ignore all things, for in
time it will pass.”

The serpentine neck cocked her head to examine the lady of

Purity. “Yet now you have gone too far… You have tried to

bar the very pathway you walked to gain power out of spite
and jealousy. Because of that, you have corrupted your
station and must atone. You owe the Pantheon of Shadow
and Sin a debt. Do you acknowledge it?”
 The goddess quailed under the eyes of Pattern. “Yes, Pattern,

I will make it right. What must I do?”

The draconic figure shifted and began to fade. “That

remains to be seen, but Azazel must be offered a test… and
a chance. He has shown the potential to reach the highest
levels, and now you must give him that opportunity.”

The dragon paused before fading out completely. “...but you

needn’t make it easy.”

Pattern vanished back into whatever space outside reality that

she chose to linger in. Once they were sure she was gone, the gods

looked at one another and the boar let out a snort.

“Then it is settled. We must begin to form a series of Trials to

test Azazel the Tempter and see where his new Pantheon will rank

among the others in the world—and whom they shall call ally and
foe,” the beast god rumbled. The creature stomped a powerful hoof
down upon the blank space and tossed its head.

“He will never be my ally!” hissed the goddess of Purity.

The spear-wielder of the Pantheon of Order slammed his

weapon down and glowered at the woman. “Has your stubborn
arrogance not jeopardized reality enough? You have already caused
one of the founders to return and watch us!” he snarled.

The raven-headed goddess simply cocked her head. She

shifted her hands on a black staff that rose and twisted in her grip.

“Foolish emotions serve no purpose now. We have business to

attend to. Let us not forget that the abominations have a foothold

on Avalar now.”

The gods began to bicker and argue about the nature of the
tribulations they would put Azazel through. The greater gods of
Order, Darkness, and Beasts refused to relent whenever Purity

attempted to skew the Trial, and they came near to blows.

Reality shifted around them as they began to weave a test for

the Tempter that would call on him to reveal his true nature to the
Universe.

The entire time, a faint presence watched on the edges of

their hidden spaces. Pattern’s eye followed their decisions, and the

great dragon folded her wings along her spine as a flicking tail kept
time where time should not be. The huge being felt her fangs

appear as a “smile” crossed her muzzle.

 These gods have no idea what they’re bringing into being. Let
them squabble and scrape for power. They have all grown
complacent and lax. None remember the fights that they endured to
rise to power. When the new blood steps forth, Avalar will quake.
 Chapter 2

Jace grew aware of something watching him. XP flooded into

him and he began to see the notifications of what he had

accomplished.
Quest Completed!—Forge a Pantheon
Divinity is not meant to be walked alone.
Elevate those loyal to the status of gods and assume the
mantle of leadership over a Pantheon.

Rewards: Level +4
Quest Completed!—Create a Home
A personal Domain is merely the beginning of power.
Transform a personal Domain into a dimensional plane able
to connect to the other lands spread across the Universe.

Rewards: Level +1

There were other notifications, but he couldn’t focus on them

—these two blew them all away. Jace stared at the two boxes as he

tried to come to terms with the fact that he had just gained five
levels as rewards… and another for surviving the battle with the

Warlord’s fleet.

“I didn’t even have to almost blow myself up and splash blood

over the walls to do it,” he murmured to himself. His sight shifted to

gaze into Azazel’s Realm once more, but the ladies were still
sleeping. He rolled his neck, then conjured a seat made of shadows

so he could sit down and brace himself for the changes these levels

might bring.

The first thing the young god faced was a series of decisions

on how to shape his evolution. He chose to boost his Constitution

twice, his Dexterity once, and his Strength once. Doubling his

Seduction Skill seemed a clear choice to him—especially when

combined with his Domain of Lust.

His last choice was that of a new Domain. He was offered

dominion over the sea, as well as over dragons—but he ignored

those options and chose the Domain of Creation.
Domain of Creation (god tier, moderate)
Domain of Creation (Passive): Azazel is a god of
Creation, be it his offspring or the works of power he has
crafted with his bare hands. Azazel gains a +10 to all
crafting Skills. Male followers of Azazel experience
increased virility, and female followers may choose to
conceive or not at will during mating.

Domain of Creation (Active): Upon activation, Azazel

grants his followers a bonus equal to his Charisma modifier.
This power requires 20 DP to activate and lasts until he
chooses to turn it off. Followers must be able to see Azazel
and be in good standing to benefit from this effect.
 Jace refused to deny his love of creating things with his

hands. He had gained his first level while pumping the bellows at

Rourke’s forge. He may have come a long way since those humble
origins, but he would not turn his back on them. The thought of

what they could achieve at Izul when he boosted everyone’s Skills

did not escape him either.

In choosing how to distribute his Skills, Jace chose to focus

on the core values he wished to embody. The glut of Skill Points was

almost overwhelming, so he divided the points by six and applied

them to Awareness, Seduction, Sailing, Arcane Knowledge, and

Smithing. He chose to double the points to Smithing, and his eyes

flashed when he examined his newly improved character sheet.

Name: Jace Blackbriar Divine Name: Azazel the

Tempter
Race: God (Moderate) Class: Shade Skills:
Sovereign
Level: 36
Strength 25 Brawl 5
Dexterity 25 Level: 36 Woodcraft 30
Constitution 40 XP: 169,250 / Leatherwork 30
Intelligence 20 171,000 Sewing 20
 Wisdom 20 Titles: Cooking 20
Charisma 40 (45) Soul Anchor Smithing 90
Father of
Divine Form Deception 30
Dragons
Domain of Lust Stealth 30
Apex
Domain of Night
Awareness 35
Domain of Creation
Seduction 90
Night’s Paragon
Archery 30
Small Blades 15
Arcane
Knowledge 60
Long Blades 45
Sailing 50
HP 1620 Masonry 40
MP 2620
DP 1260 Spells:
God (Moderate) 6 Start Fire
Understanding: The ability to speak and Charm
understand any sentient language Caress
Bolt (Shadow)

He gained the Title Apex as the head of the Pantheon of

Shadow and Sin—it gave him the ability to remove the powers of
those beneath him if they challenged his authority. That wouldn’t

help him against rival gods, and he doubted it would be needed

against his lovers. But, might I one day have lesser gods within my

Pantheon that are not lovers? he mused.

 He had chosen nothing to expand it, but Night’s Paragon had
altered itself anyway. It took him some time to discover why—he had

transitioned from a minor god to a moderate one. I wonder where a

moderate god ranks among the leaders of the other Pantheons?

The combination of his new Skills and his Domain of Lust had
horrifying potential. Raising his Charisma to an 80 and then applying

a Seduction of 90 to it—he might shatter the sanity of mortals.

Azazel the Tempter. I think I’m finally beginning to embody that
name. He examined the new form of Night’s Paragon.
Night’s Paragon
The Avatar of Azazel the Tempter STR: 40 HP: 4500
is a balanced being of the DEX: 40 MP:
elemental shadows. CON: 40 2000
INT: 40 DP: 0
Cost: 200 DP to activate WIS: 40
CHA: 40
The Night’s Paragon is the will of shadow made flesh. A
being of balance and power—unable to access the god’s
DP, he is Skill and Attribute perfected.

Night’s Own: This ability allows the Night’s Paragon to

travel to the side of any handmaiden as long as they are
touching a body of darkness.

“A perfect form to walk the battlefield in, though lacking my

own divine power,” he said.
 “Indeed, Azazel, you grow powerful. You acted with a brash

drive to grow while you were interdicted by the goddess of Purity; it

seems you are to benefit from that error on her part,” came the
voice of someone behind him.

Jace dismissed the seat of shadows and spun in place to see

who might have entered his presence without his realization. He had

assumed the Domain of Night would alert him to a being

approaching.

Azazel’s Own, the divine falchion he had crafted simply

appeared in his hands and shadows swelled and curled around it as

he held the weapon before him in a defensive stance. The being

facing him, however, seemed utterly immune to the darkness.

Emera, the crow-headed goddess of Darkness, stood on the

deck of the Stormrunner, watching him. Azazel felt the shadows

around him curling at her feet like a happy pet. She adjusted her
black cloak and tapped a finger against her staff.

“I admire your courage, but you are not ready to face me yet.
We have much in common, however, and I had hoped to bring you

into the Pantheon of Darkness,” she said. The woman let out a
cackling laugh and waved a hand around them.
 “It seems that is not to be, for you have forged your own

Pantheon instead. Still, I hope that the Pantheon of Darkness and

the Pantheon of Shadow and Sin can be allies.”

Jace lowered his blade cautiously. His new Awareness gave

him hints at her power compared to his own. She felt... deeper, for
lack of a better term. It wasn’t that she seemed greater than him in

terms of levels, there was just a quality to her pattern that hinted

she had merged more into the Universe than he had.

“I suppose that depends on how this meeting goes, wouldn’t

you say?” he said. He rested his blade tip down on the deck and
watched her. Her corvid face made it difficult to tell what her mood

was.

Slowly, she nodded her head. “A cautious answer is a good

one when dealing with a greater god. I am here to extend an

invitation to you. Several Pantheons are meeting to discuss the

threat that Betty Friday has summoned to Avalar. We feel it would

benefit us all to have you join.”

Jace cocked an eyebrow and pursed his lips. “Me? And what
do the greater gods of Avalar feel they might gain from me? I am

safe here in the Shadow Realm, my loves sleep within Azazel’s

Realm, and the path to Izul lies open to me. Should I not return to
the lands I have claimed and found a kingdom in my own name?” he

asked.

“Power. You have sought it ever since you were forced away

from the smithy—have you not? In the Dungeon of Descending

Chaos you chose the dark path time and again to gain more levels,
yet you didn’t abuse the Cleric Zyr when you had the chance. You

are ambitious, though you are not without honor. What do you think

shall happen to Avalar if more like the Deep One spread there?”

Jace grimaced. “The ones I care about are here, and the ones

I left behind don’t remember me. I could make that kingdom on

Avalar, or I could take the Stormrunner and my lovers and sail until I
find a new world—then just find a way to drag my followers to join

me. You think my loyalty to Avalar is unbreakable?”

She let out a caw. “I think exactly that. You are a complex

being, Azazel, but you began as a mortal with no drive for

bloodshed. You just wanted to craft things… and now I am offering

you a chance to craft a better future for Avalar.”

Jace snorted. “Does that line actually work? I mean, it

sounded good, but… a bit cliché, no?”

 She rolled her huge dark eyes. “It works on heroes all the

time. Mortals are stupid—you’ll see in a few thousand years. Are you

coming or not?”

Jace raised a hand, then asked, “Who am I going to be

facing, and what guarantees do I have of my own safety? I would be

stupid to not grasp that you mentioned the goddess of purity was

breaking rules to come after me.”

“We would be traveling outside of the Universe as you

understand it, to a place where the patterns are all neutral.

Moreover, this location is under the eyes of Pattern herself, an

ancient being so far beyond a god as to make us seem like mortals.

She has declared that you be tested. If you pass the tests, you will

gain more power than you can comprehend.” She stared at him,

waiting to hear his answer.

The allure of more power was hard to resist, yet at the same

time Jace was tired of fleeing from one crisis to another. He had
grown so far beyond the apprentice he had once been. Is it wrong to

simply wish to spend time with my party and grow into the level
gains we’ve made? They have become goddesses, yet I am being
asked to join some new disaster without giving them a moment to
enjoy life.
 “Swear that my Pantheon will be safe from betrayal, and that
we’ll find a reward no matter how this goes, and I will come with

you,” he said. Then, he watched her, waiting to see how she handled

his request.

It was hard to gauge the passage of time in a world without

sunlight, especially when Jace was aware the Shadow Realm and

Avalar did not move at the same pace. For all of that, he waited,
watching the goddess before him.

“I will swear that your Pantheon shall be under the protection

of the Pantheon of Darkness: safe from attack. Further, I swear that

no betrayal waits for you, though I cannot promise you’ll be safe

from harm—they are trials, after all,” she said.

Jace turned it over in his head. It wasn’t what he wanted,

yet… “Alright. I will go with you. Let us see if we might be allies

after all,” he agreed. Then he smiled slightly as a thought crossed

his mind.

“You said the goddess of Purity has been causing me grief…

will I have a chance to right that wrong if I go with you?”

Her dark eyes seemed to gleam and her beak clicked several
times. “Who can say what the future holds? When gods attempt to
distort the pattern to their benefit, strange things occur—sometimes

fatal, sometimes worse. The pattern that rules our Universe cared

nothing for morality… and neither does Pattern herself.”

He could tell she was referring to an actual deity—she had

mentioned Pattern before. Instead of asking, Jace decided to wait

and see what he could learn. He turned over her comments in his

head, looking to see what might be hiding between the lines.

“What can you tell me about the trials ahead?” he asked.

“Nothing. At least not here. This is still a land of mortals. The

business of gods is best discussed in a space where only gods can

reach,” she replied.

The woman raised her staff and spun it over her head. Jace
felt DP spread all around them, and he took in the deep burgundy

threads of power as she wrapped the Stormrunner in her might. It

appeared to take no more effort than a breath for her to place his
vessel within Azazel’s Realm. He flinched at how easy it had been to

penetrate.

Before he had time to do more than wonder at the display of

power, they moved. A globe of her divine might wrapped around

him, and then reality bent. It felt as though the Universe were
squeezing them, and a moment later it spat them into a new
location.

He tried to study the space, but there wasn’t much to look at.
Blank whiteness made up everything he could see. A monstrous boar

rested belly down on the ground. Next to the beast stood a grizzled

warrior, his armor dented and torn. Jace recognized the depiction of

Reynard, god of Law. The woman next to him had to be the goddess
of purity.

Tia had golden hair that fell to her knees and was woven into
an intricate braid. She wore a pristine white robe that looked far too

fitted to be monastic. She was glaring at him, and he couldn’t resist

a small smile that pulled up his lips as he met her eyes.

Her own eyes widened as she took in his expression and—if

she had been a mortal woman—Jace would have expected to see

fear reflected in her face. She stiffened ever so slightly, then whirled
to put her back to him.

Interesting, I am starting to think there is something going on

here… something that passes beyond them wanting to test me.

Reynard adjusted his grip on his spear and focused on Jace.

“Azazel, we thank you for coming. I am sure that you have much to
do sorting your fledgling Pantheon—but Avalar requires your

assistance."

Jace blinked slowly. Emera’s attempt to encourage him to

build a better future had come off almost mockingly, yet Reynard’s

words rang with sincerity. The god of Law truly radiated belief in his
statement.

“I am here, but I would like to know why before I agree to

anything,” Jace said. His reply seemed to infuriate Tia, and she spun
to glare at him with rage on her face.

“A weak and feeble interloper like yourself should bow when

we speak and do as you’re told! You are not worthy to stand—”

Her tirade was cut short when the massive boar let out a
thunderous snort. The sound echoed like thunder and the wind of its

breath blew over her and knocked her robes askew. The goddess
scrambled to correct herself.

“Perhaps, Azazel, you could summon your companions and

we can begin?” Reynard asked. Jace couldn’t help but think the god
seemed a little put upon.

He looks like my dad after my siblings spent all day fighting.

The thought made Jace smile wider.
 Chapter 3

Jace turned his head and focused on a patch of… nothing.

Despite the lack of real visual cues regarding reality, the doorway to

Azazel’s Realm opened smoothly. He began to walk to the entrance,

but stopped when Emera held up a hand.

“Allow me, Azazel, so none can accuse you of plotting

betrayal,” the crow-headed goddess bid. Something in her gaze

caused Jace to nod and wave her forward. It was a simple matter to
watch through his Diving Sight as she stepped into his domain.

The sense of power was palatable as the woman strode

through the portal; the Guardians stationed around the entrance
quaked when they moved to block her path. Jace mentally bid them

to hold still and studied Emera more carefully.

With her presence inside his Realm, he gained a deeper

understanding of her pattern. He didn’t have the exact numbers, but

he felt her level wasn’t that far above his own. As he had noted
earlier, though, her pattern was deeper, further wound into Avalar.

When he compared his pattern to that of his lovers, then Emera’s,

he made a simple observation.

 Her god tier is higher. If the patterns on Selene and the
others mark them as minor gods, and mine is a moderate, then
Emera must be at least a major god… are there greater gods? Are
there gods even higher? How many tiers are there to godhood?

She paused at the gate to the castle and Jace realized the
structure had grown. In fact, the entirety of Azazel’s Realm was far

larger than what he had originally created. What began with the

dragon’s cliffs across the sea had spread. The twilight land had
islands, small forests, and mountains—a true tiny world.

Creatures had begun to move within—the monsters and

animals they had tossed into the domain. He spotted a tiny cave

where kobolds were starting to carve out a home. Jace took a

moment and willed their cave to smooth into a dome with nooks for

bedrooms; the creatures immediately fell to their knees.

He stumbled a step when a boost hit his DP. They’re praying,

he realized. It took a small portion of his new Awareness to begin

searching Azazel’s Realm for other signs of life and sentience. He

began to formulate a way to guide them in the back of his mind

while he turned the majority of his consciousness back to Emera.

 The goddess had knocked upon the gates with her staff and

the booming sound had the women Jace loved rising. Kit vanished

into a cloud of smoke and shadows, then appeared on the ledge

above the gate.

“Who the fuck are you?” the former succubus demanded.

Perhaps now that we’re all gods this constant evolution of

bodies will end, Jace thought with a mild chuckle. He noticed the
gods shifting as they watched, which made him wonder if they could

see within his Realm.

“Kit! That is Emera, goddess of Darkness and patron of

sorcerers!” hissed Nicolette after the svartalfar had used a spell to

join Kit on the ramparts. “Greetings, goddess, to what do we owe

the pleasure of your visit?”

Emera let out a clicking sound as she closed her beak. She

grounded her staff and looked up at the castle wall with no sign of

worry over being in another’s Domain. “I have been asked to bring

you out from the Realm to a meeting of gods that includes your lord

Azazel. May I?”

Kit’s eyes widened and shot to look at Nicolette. The elf raised

a hand to delay a reaction. “One moment, goddess,” she said.

 Nicolette grasped Kit by the shoulder and a tornado of

shadows rose around her. The pair were swept back into the castle

and placed in the main bedroom where Rem Dovi, Ana, and Selene
were donning their gear.

“Jace has been called before a group of gods. Emera,

goddess of Darkness, is waiting to escort us to his presence,”

Nicolette said without preamble.

Selene paused in the middle of strapping on her breastplate.

The black and gold coloring of the armor looked fierce against her
emerald scales. Her tail thumped against the stone floor of the

castle. “If Jace needs us, then we must go to him,” the dragon-folk
said.

“This should be fun,” said Ana as she slipped her large coat
on and slid her personal weapon onto her belt. Rem Dovi looked

over from tightening the straps of her own armor and nodded.

Midnight Minions scurried around the women, helping tighten

armor, adjust straps, and generally prepare them. Jace had issued
no conscious order for his women to be equipped with gear that

wouldn’t fade away—but he had wanted it to happen and the Realm

responded.
 Nicolette used the same dark tornado to gather the group and
deliver them to the castle gates. She chose to set down next to

Emera, instead of opening the gates, and the crow-headed woman

clicked appreciatively.

“You are ready then?” Emera asked.

“We are, goddess, and thank you,” said Rem Dovi. The Witch
Queen looked anxious and Jace caught himself wondering if she

feared meeting her former patron.

His eyes flicked to Tia and watched the goddess of Purity’s

face darken with anger and her small fists clench. The woman was

staring off into space, but Jace didn’t believe for a moment the
woman wasn’t watching inside his Realm.

She’s just a woman. Huh, when did the gods become just
people to me? Jace looked at his hand, slim and dark. He waggled
his fingers and drew his attention to the portal where his lovers
would soon emerge.

I suppose it is difficult to think of the gods as a collection of

infallible beings when you’ve joined their ranks.

As they stepped through the portal, Jace didn’t waste time.

He held his arms out and swept Nicolette into a tight hug. His arms
squished her soft body to him and he claimed her lips in a deep kiss.

She squeaked in protest and slapped at his chest as he put her

down. “Brute,” she muttered.

He clasped Selene’s horn and pulled her down for a kiss, and

she let out a contented sigh. “My lord?” she asked. He chuckled and
shook his head.

“Don’t start that crap again. We’re alive and we’re all the

same people we were,” he replied.

When he came to Kit, he clamped a hand on either side of

her face and kissed as though he wished to draw her soul from her
body. The leather-clad Vengeance Blade squirmed and shifted with
visible excitement, and when he stepped back, she stared at him

with a confused expression.

Ana’s eyes flicked over the others gathered and Jace saw her
make a connection. The Ebon Admiral put a hand on her hip and

sauntered over to him. “And where is my kiss?” she demanded.

Jace grasped her emerald braid and tugged her in to kiss her
as fiercely as he’d done Kit while the pirate molded herself against

him. When they parted, it left Rem Dovi—who was staring at the
white-robed form of Tia in terror.
 The goddess of purity was glaring back at the Witch Queen

with an expression of loathing, so Jace calmly walked between the

pair and took Rem’s face between his hands. He brought her head
around until she was staring at him.

Once their eyes were locked, Jace cast Caress and sent carnal
bliss exploding through Rem’s body. The human spasmed and cried

out as she grasped his forearms to remain standing. He let the spell

roll on for a moment, and then dropped it. Rem was panting
violently once he finally kissed her.

“You cursed bastard ,you DARE taunt me like that!” raged Tia
behind him. Jace stepped back and pivoted so he remained blocking

the line of sight between Rem Dovi and her former mistress.

“Taunt you? I wasn’t thinking about you at all in that moment

—did you want me to?” Jace raised an eyebrow as he challenged

her. The woman sputtered in rage and he felt the full force of his

Seduction Skill guiding his words.

“You seem under a misconception, Tia. Nothing I do is about

you. You’re a lonely goddess, frigid and untouched, and even though
we had no reason to be enemies, you’ve made my life quite difficult,

haven’t you?”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
Úrsula, desposada y virgen pura,
mostraba su figura, en una pieza 1485
pintada su cabeza. Allí se vía
que los ojos volvía ya espirando;
y estábate mirando aquel tirano[186]
que con acerba mano llevó a hecho
de tierno en tierno pecho tu compaña. 1490
Por la fiera Alemaña de aquí parte
el Duque, a aquella parte enderezado
donde el cristiano estado estaba en dubio.[187]
En fin al gran Danubio se encomienda;
por él suelta la rienda a su navío,[188] 1495
que con poco desvío de la tierra,
entre una y otra sierra el agua hiende.
El remo, que deciende en fuerza suma,
mueve la blanca espuma como argento.
El veloz movimiento parecía 1500
que pintado se vía ante los ojos.
Con amorosos ojos adelante
Carlo, César triunfante, le abrazaba
cuando desembarcaba en Ratisbona.[189]
Allí por la corona del imperio 1505
estaba el magisterio de la tierra
convocado a la guerra que esperaban.
Todos ellos estaban enclavando
los ojos en Fernando, y en el punto
que así le vieron junto, se prometen 1510
de cuanto allí acometen la vitoria.
Con falsa y vana gloria y arrogancia,
con bárbara jatancia allí se vía
a los fines de Hungría el campo puesto
de aquel que fue molesto en tanto grado 1515
al húngaro cuitado y afligido;[190]
las armas y el vestido a su costumbre,
era la muchedumbre tan estraña,
que apenas la campaña la abrazaba,
ni a dar pasto bastaba, ni agua el río. 1520
 César con celo pío y con valiente
ánimo aquella gente despreciaba;
la suya convocaba, y en un punto
vieras un campo junto de naciones
diversas y razones, mas de un celo.[191] 1525
No ocupaban el suelo en tanto grado
con número sobrado y infinito
como el campo maldito; mas mostraban
virtud, con que sobraban su contrario,[192]
ánimo voluntario, industria y maña; 1530
con generosa saña y viva fuerza
Fernando los esfuerza y los recoge,
y a sueldo suyo coge muchos dellos.
De un arte usaba entre ellos admirable;
con el disciplinable alemán fiero 1535
a su manera y fuero conversaba;
a todos se aplicaba de manera,
que el flamenco dijera que nacido
en Flandes había sido, y el osado
español y sobrado, imaginando[193] 1540
ser suyo don Fernando y de su suelo,
demanda sin recelo la batalla.
Quien más cerca se halla del gran hombre
piensa que crece el nombre por su mano.
El cauto italiano nota y mira,[194] 1545
los ojos nunca tira del guerrero,[195]
y aquel valor primero de su gente[196]
junto en este y presente considera.
En él ve la manera misma y maña
del que pasó en España sin tardanza, 1550
siendo solo esperanza de su tierra,
y acabó aquella guerra peligrosa
con mano poderosa y con estrago
de la fiera Cartago y de su muro,
y del terrible y duro su caudillo, 1555
cuyo agudo cuchillo a las gargantas
Italia tuvo tantas veces puesto.[197]
 Mostrábase tras esto allí esculpida
la envidia carcomida, así molesta;[198]
contra Fernando puesta frente a frente, 1560
la desvalida gente convocaba,
y contra aquel la armaba, y con sus artes
busca por todas partes daño y mengua.
Él con su mansa lengua y largas manos
los tumultos livianos asentando, 1565
poco a poco iba alzando tanto el vuelo,
que la envidia en el cielo lo miraba;
y como no bastaba a la conquista,
vencida ya su vista de tal lumbre,
forzaba su costumbre, y parecía 1570
que perdón le pedía, en tierra echada.
Él, después de pisada, descansado
quedaba y aliviado de este enojo;
y lleno del despojo desta fiera,
hallaba en la ribera del gran río, 1575
de noche, al puro frío del sereno,
a César, que en su seno está pensoso,
del suceso dudoso desta guerra;
que, aunque de sí destierra la tristeza,
del caso la grandeza trae consigo 1580
el pensamiento amigo del remedio.[199]
Entrambos buscan medio convenible
para que aquel terrible furor loco
les empeciese poco, y recibiese
tal estrago, que fuese destrozado. 1585
Después de haber hablado, ya cansados,
en la hierba acostados se dormían;
el gran Danubio oían ir sonando,
casi como aprobando aquel consejo.
En esto el claro viejo río se vía 1590
que del agua salía muy callado,
de sauces coronado y de un vestido
de las ovas tejido mal cubierto,
y en aquel sueño incierto les mostraba
todo cuanto tocaba al gran negocio. 1595
Y parecía que el ocio sin provecho
les sacaba del pecho; porque luego,
como si en vivo fuego se quemara
alguna cosa cara, se levantan
del gran sueño y se espantan, alegrando 1600
el ánimo y alzando la esperanza.
El río sin tardanza parecía
que el agua disponía al gran viaje;
allanaba el pasaje y la corriente,
para que fácilmente aquella armada[200] 1605
que había de ser guiada por su mano,
en el remar liviano y dulce viese
cuánto el Danubio fuese favorable.
Con presteza admirable vieras junto
un ejército a punto denodado; 1610
y después de embarcado, el remo lento,
el duro movimiento de los brazos,
los pocos embarazos de las ondas
llevaban por las hondas aguas presta
el armada, molesta al gran tirano.[201] 1615
El artificio humano no hiciera
pintura que esprimiera vivamente,
el armada, la gente, el curso, el agua;
apenas en la fragua, donde sudan
los cíclopes y mudan fatigados[202] 1620
los brazos, ya cansados del martillo,
pudiera así esprimillo el gran maestro.
Quien viera el curso diestro por la clara
corriente, bien jurara a aquellas horas[203]
que las agudas proras dividían 1625
el agua y la hendían con sonido,
y el rastro iba seguido. Luego vieras
al viento las banderas tremolando,
las ondas imitando en el moverse.
Pudiera también verse casi viva 1630
la otra gente esquiva y descreída,
que, de ensoberbecida y arrogante,
pensaban que delante no hallaran
hombres que se pararan, a su furia.
Los nuestros, tal injuria no sufriendo, 1635
remos iban metiendo con tal gana,
que iba de espuma cana el agua llena.
El temor enajena al otro bando;
el sentido, volando de uno en uno,
entrábase importuno por la puerta 1640
de la opinión incierta, y siendo dentro,
en el íntimo centro allá del pecho
les dejaba deshecho un hielo frío,
el cual, como un gran río en flujos gruesos,
por médulas y huesos discurría. 1645
Todo el campo se vía conturbado
y con arrebatado movimiento;
solo del salvamento platicaban.[204]
Luego se levantaban con desorden,
confusos y sin orden caminando, 1650
atrás iban dejando con recelo,
tendida por el suelo, su riqueza.
Las tiendas do pereza y do fornicio,
con todo bruto vicio obrar solían,
sin ellas se partían. Así armadas, 1655
eran desamparadas de sus dueños.
A grandes y pequeños juntamente
era el temor presente por testigo,
y el áspero enemigo a las espaldas,
que les iba las faldas ya mordiendo. 1660
César estar teniendo allí se vía
a Fernando, que ardía sin tardanza
por colorar su lanza en turca sangre.
Con animosa hambre y con denuedo
forcejea con quien quedo estar le manda. 1665
Como lebrel de Irlanda generoso
que el jabalí cerdoso y fiero mira,
rebátese, sospira, fuerza y riñe,
y apenas le constriñe el atadura,
que el dueño con cordura más aprieta;[205] 1670
así estaba perfeta y bien labrada
la imagen figurada de Fernando,
que quien allí mirándola estuviera,
que era desta manera bien juzgara.
Resplandeciente y clara de su gloria 1675
pintada la vitoria se mostraba;
a César abrazaba, y no parando,
los brazos a Fernando echaba al cuello.
Él mostraba de aquello sentimiento,
por ser el vencimiento tan holgado. 1680
Estaba figurado un carro estraño
con el despojo y daño de la gente
bárbara, y juntamente allí pintados
cautivos amarrados a las ruedas,
con hábitos y sedas variadas; 1685
lanzas rotas, celadas y banderas,
armaduras ligeras de los brazos,
escudos en pedazos divididos,
vieras allí cogidos en trofeo,
con que el común deseo y voluntades 1690
de tierras y ciudades se alegraba.
Tras esto blanqueaba falda y seno
con velas al Tirreno de la armada
sublime y ensalzada y gloriosa.
Con la prora espumosa las galeras, 1695
como nadantes fieras, el mar cortan,
hasta que en fin aportan con corona
de lauro a Barcelona, do cumplidos[206]
los votos ofrecidos y deseos,
y los grandes trofeos ya repuestos, 1700
con movimientos prestos de allí luego,
en amoroso fuego todo ardiendo,
el Duque iba corriendo, y no paraba.
Cataluña pasaba, atrás la deja;
ya de Aragón se aleja, y en Castilla, 1705
sin bajar de la silla, los pies pone.
El corazón dispone a la alegría
que vecina tenía, y reserena
su rostro, y enajena de sus ojos
muerte, daños, enojos, sangre y guerra. 1710
Con solo amor se encierra sin respeto,
y el amoroso afeto y celo ardiente
figurado y presente está en la cara;
y la consorte cara, presurosa,
de un tal placer dudosa, aunque lo vía, 1715
el cuello le ceñía en nudo estrecho,[207]
de aquellos brazos hecho delicados;
de lágrimas preñados relumbraban
los ojos que sobraban al sol claro.
Con su Fernando caro y señor pío 1720
la tierra, el campo, el río, el monte, el llano,
alegres a una mano estaban todos,
mas con diversos modos lo decían.
Los muros parecían de otra altura;
el campo en hermosura de otras flores 1725
pintaba mil colores disconformes;
estaba el mismo Tormes figurado,
en torno rodeado de sus ninfas,
vertiendo claras linfas con instancia,
en mayor abundancia que solía; 1730
del monte se veía el verde seno
de ciervos todo lleno, corzos, gamos,
que de los tiernos ramos van rumiando;
el llano está mostrando su verdura,
tendiendo su llanura así espaciosa, 1735
que a la vida curiosa nada empece,
ni deja en qué tropiece el ojo vago.
Bañados en un lago, no de olvido,
mas de un embebecido gozo, estaban
cuantos consideraban la presencia 1740
deste, cuya ecelencia el mundo canta,
cuyo valor quebranta al turco fiero.
 Aquesto vio Severo por sus ojos,
y no fueron antojos ni ficiones;
si oyeras sus razones, yo te digo 1745
que como a buen testigo lo creyeras.
Contaba muy de veras que, mirando
atento y contemplando las pinturas,
hallaba en las figuras tal destreza,
que con mayor viveza no pudieran 1750
estar si ser les dieran vivo y puro.
Lo que dellas escuro allí hallaba,
y el ojo no bastaba a recogello,
el río le daba dello gran noticia.
—Este de la milicia —dijo el río— 1755
la cumbre y señorío tendrá solo
del uno al otro polo, y porque espantes
a todos cuantos cantes los famosos
hechos tan gloriosos, tan ilustres,[208]
sabe que en cinco lustres de sus años[209] 1760
hará tantos engaños a la muerte,
que con ánimo fuerte habrá pasado
por cuanto aquí pintado della has visto.
Ya todo lo has previsto, vamos fuera,
dejarte he en la ribera do estar sueles. 1765
—Quiero que me reveles tú primero,
—le replicó Severo—, qué es aquello,
que de mirar en ello se me ofusca
la vista; así corusca y resplandece,[210]
y tan claro parece allí en la urna, 1770
como en hora noturna la cometa.
—Amigo, no se meta —dijo el viejo—
ninguno, le aconsejo, en este suelo
en saber más que el cielo le otorgare;
y si no te mostrare lo que pides, 1775
tú mismo me lo impides, porque en tanto
que el mortal velo y manto el alma cubren,
mil cosas se te encubren, que no bastan
tus ojos, que contrastan, a mirallas.
No pude yo pintallas con menores 1780
luces y resplandores, porque sabe,
y aquesto en ti bien cabe, que esto todo
que en ecesivo modo resplandece
tanto, que no parece ni se muestra,
es lo que aquella diestra mano osada 1785
y virtud sublimada de Fernando
acabarán entrando más los días.
Lo cual, con lo que vías comparado,
es como con nublado muy escuro
el sol ardiente, puro, relumbrante. 1790
Tu vista no es bastante a tanta lumbre,
hasta que la costumbre de miralla
tu ver al contemplalla no confunda.
Como en cárcel profunda el encerrado,
que, súbito sacado, le atormenta 1795
el sol que se presenta a sus tinieblas;
así tú, que las nieblas y hondura,
metido en estrechura, contemplabas
que era cuanto mirabas otra gente,
viendo tan diferente suerte de hombre, 1800
no es mucho que te asombre luz tamaña;
pero vete, que baña el sol hermoso
su carro presuroso ya en las ondas,
y antes que me respondas será puesto.—
Diciendo así, con gesto muy humano 1805
tomole por la mano. ¡Oh admirable
caso, y, cierto, espantable! Que en saliendo,
se fueron estriñendo de una parte
y de otra de tal arte aquellas ondas,
que las aguas, que hondas ser solían, 1810
el suelo descubrían, y dejaban
seca por do pasaban la carrera,
hasta que en la ribera se hallaron;
y como se pararon en un alto,
el viejo de allí un salto dio con brío, 1815
y levantó del río espuma al cielo,
y comovió del suelo negra arena.
Severo, ya de ajena ciencia instruto,
fuese a coger el fruto sin tardanza
de futura esperanza; y escribiendo, 1820
las cosas fue esprimiendo muy conformes
a las que había de Tormes aprendido;
y aunque de mi sentido él bien juzgase
que no las alcanzase, no por eso
este largo proceso sin pereza 1825
dejó, por su nobleza, de mostrarme.
Yo no podía hartarme allí leyendo,
y tú de estarme oyendo estás cansado.
 SALICIO

Espantado me tienes
con tan estraño cuento, 1830
y al son de tu hablar embebecido;
acá dentro me siento,
oyendo tantos bienes
y el valor deste príncipe escogido,
bullir con el sentido 1835
y arder con el deseo,
por contemplar presente
a aquel que, estando ausente,
por tu divina relación ya veo.
¡Quién viese la escritura, 1840
ya que no puede verse la pintura!
Por firme y verdadero,
después que te he escuchado,
tengo que ha de sanar Albanio cierto;
que, según me has contado, 1845
bastará a tu Severo
a dar salud a un vivo y vida a un muerto;
que a quien fue descubierto
un tamaño secreto,
razón es que se crea 1850
que, cualquiera que sea,
alcanzará con su saber perfeto,
y a las enfermedades
aplicará contrarias calidades.

NEMOROSO

Pues ¿en qué te resumes, di, Salicio, 1855

acerca deste enfermo compañero?

SALICIO

En que hagamos el debido oficio.

 Luego de aquí partamos, y primero
que haga curso el mal y se envejesca,
así le presentemos a Severo. 1860

NEMOROSO

Yo soy contento, y antes que amanesca

y que del sol el claro rayo ardiente
sobre las altas cumbres se paresca,
el compañero mísero y doliente
llevemos luego donde cierto entiendo 1865
que será guarecido fácilmente.

SALICIO

Recoge tu ganado, que cayendo

ya de los altos montes las mayores
sombras, con ligereza van corriendo.
Mira en torno, y verás por los alcores 1870
salir el humo de las caserías
de aquestos comarcanos labradores.[211]
Recoge tus ovejas y las mías,
y vete ya con ellas poco a poco
por aquel mismo valle que solías. 1875
Yo solo me avendré con nuestro loco,
que pues él hasta aquí no se ha movido,
la braveza y furor debe ser poco.

NEMOROSO

Si llegas antes, no te estés dormido;

apareja la cena, que sospecho 1880
que aún fuego Galafrón no habrá encendido.

SALICIO

Yo lo haré, que al hato iré derecho,

si no me lleva a despeñar consigo
de algún barranco Albanio a mi despecho.
Adiós, hermano.

NEMOROSO

Adiós, Salicio amigo. 1885

 ÉGLOGA III

Aquella voluntad honesta y pura,[212]

ilustre y hermosísima María,
que en mí de celebrar tu hermosura,
tu ingenio y tu valor estar solía,
a despecho y pesar de la ventura 5
que por otro camino me desvía,
está y estará en mí tanto clavada,
cuanto del cuerpo el alma acompañada.[213]
Y aun no se me figura que me toca
aqueste oficio solamente en vida; 10
mas con la lengua muerta y fría en la boca[214]
pienso mover la voz a ti debida.
Libre mi alma de su estrecha roca,
por el Estigio lago conducida,
celebrándote irá, y aquel sonido 15
hará parar las aguas del olvido.
Mas la fortuna, de mi mal no harta,
me aflige y de un trabajo en otro lleva;
ya de la patria, ya del bien me aparta,
ya mi paciencia en mil maneras prueba; 20
y lo que siento más, es que la carta,[215]
donde mi pluma en tu alabanza mueva,
poniendo en su lugar cuidados vanos,
me quita y me arrebata de las manos.
Pero, por más que en mí su fuerza pruebe, 25
no tornará mi corazón mudable;
nunca dirán jamás que me remueve
fortuna de un estudio tan loable.
Apolo y las hermanas, todas nueve,
me darán ocio y lengua con que hable 30
lo menos de lo que en tu ser cupiere,
que esto será lo más que yo pudiere.[216]
En tanto no te ofenda ni te harte
tratar del campo y soledad que amaste,
ni desdeñes aquesta inculta parte 35
de mi estilo, que en algo ya estimaste.
Entre las armas del sangriento Marte,
do apenas hay quien su furor contraste,
hurté de el tiempo aquesta breve suma,
tomando, ora la espada, ora la pluma.[217] 40
Aplica, pues, un rato los sentidos
al bajo son de mi zampoña ruda,
indina de llegar a tus oídos,
pues de ornamento y gracia va desnuda;
mas a las veces son mejor oídos 45
el puro ingenio y lengua casi muda,
testigos limpios de ánimo inocente,
que la curiosidad del elocuente.
Por aquesta razón de ti escuchado,
aunque me falten otras, ser meresco. 50
Lo que puedo te doy, y lo que he dado,
con recibillo tú yo me enriquesco.
De cuatro ninfas que del Tajo amado
salieron juntas, a cantar me ofresco,
Filódoce, Dinámene y Crimene, 55
Nise, que en hermosura par no tiene.
Cerca del Tajo en soledad amena,
de verdes sauces hay una espesura,
toda de hiedra revestida y llena,
que por el tronco va hasta el altura, 60
y así la teje arriba y encadena,
que el sol no halla paso a la verdura;
el agua baña el prado, con sonido
alegrando la vista y el oído.
Con tanta mansedumbre el cristalino 65
Tajo en aquella parte caminaba,
que pudieran los ojos el camino
determinar apenas que llevaba.
Peinando sus cabellos de oro fino,
una ninfa, del agua, do moraba, 70
la cabeza sacó, y el prado ameno
vido de flores y de sombra lleno.
Moviola el sitio umbroso, el manso viento,
el suave olor de aquel florido suelo.
Las aves en el fresco apartamiento 75
vio descansar del trabajoso vuelo.
Secaba entonces el terreno aliento
el sol subido en la mitad del cielo.
En el silencio solo se escuchaba
un susurro de abejas que sonaba. 80
Habiendo contemplado una gran pieza
atentamente aquel lugar sombrío,
somorgujó de nuevo su cabeza,[218]
y al fondo se dejó calar del río.[219]
A sus hermanas a contar empieza 85
del verde sitio el agradable frío,
y que vayan les ruega y amonesta
allí con su labor a estar la siesta.
No perdió en esto mucho tiempo el ruego,
que las tres dellas su labor tomaron, 90
y en mirando de fuera, vieron luego
el prado, hacia el cual enderezaron.
El agua clara con lacivo juego[220]
nadando dividieron y cortaron,[221]
hasta que el blanco pie tocó mojado, 95
saliendo de la arena, el verde prado.
Poniendo ya en lo enjuto las pisadas,[222]
escurrieron del agua sus cabellos,
los cuales esparciendo, cubijadas
las hermosas espaldas fueron dellos. 100
Luego sacando telas delicadas,
que en delgadeza competían con ellos,[223]
en lo más escondido se metieron,
y a su labor atentas se pusieron.
Las telas eran hechas y tejidas 105
del oro que el felice Tajo envía,
apurado, después de bien cernidas
las menudas arenas do se cría.[224]
Y de las verdes hojas reducidas
en estambre sutil, cual convenía 110
para seguir el delicado estilo
del oro ya tirado en rico hilo.
La delicada estambre era distinta
de las colores que antes le habían dado
con la fineza de la varia tinta 115
que se halla en las conchas del pescado.
Tanto artificio muestra en lo que pinta
y teje cada ninfa en su labrado,
cuanto mostraron en sus tablas antes
el celebrado Apeles y Timantes. 120
Filódoce, que así de aquellas era
llamada la mayor, con diestra mano
tenía figurada la ribera
de Estrimón, de una parte el verde llano,
y de otra el monte de aspereza fiera, 125
pisado tarde o nunca de pie humano,
donde el amor movió con tanta gracia
la dolorosa lengua del de Tracia.[225]
Estaba figurada la hermosa
Eurídice, en el blanco pie mordida[226] 130
de la pequeña sierpe ponzoñosa,[227]
entre la hierba y flores escondida;
descolorida estaba como rosa
que ha sido fuera de sazón cogida,
y el ánima, los ojos ya volviendo, 135
de su hermosa carne despidiendo.
Figurado se vía estensamente
el osado marido que bajaba
al triste reino de la escura gente,
y la mujer perdida recobraba; 140
y cómo después desto él, impaciente
por miralla de nuevo, la tornaba
a perder otra vez, y del tirano
se queja al monte solitario en vano.[228]
Dinámene no menos artificio 145
mostraba en la labor que había tejido,
pintando a Apolo en el robusto oficio
de la silvestre caza embebecido.
Mudar luego le hace el ejercicio
la vengativa mano de Cupido, 150
que hizo a Apolo consumirse en lloro
después que le enclavó con punta de oro.[229]
Dafne con el cabello suelto al viento,[230]
sin perdonar al blanco pie, corría
por áspero camino tan sin tiento, 155
que Apolo en la pintura parecía
que, porque ella templase el movimiento,
con menos ligereza la seguía.
Él va siguiendo, y ella huye como
quien siente al pecho el odioso plomo.[231] 160
Mas a la fin los brazos le crecían,
y en sendos ramos vueltos se mostraban,
y los cabellos, que vencer solían
al oro fino, en hojas se tornaban;
en torcidas raíces se estendían 165
los blancos pies, y en tierra se hincaban.
Llora el amante, y busca el ser primero,
besando y abrazando aquel madero.
Climene, llena de destreza y maña,
el oro y las colores matizando, 170
iba de hayas una gran montaña
de robles y de peñas variando.
Un puerco entre ellas, de braveza estraña,
estaba los colmillos aguzando
contra un mozo, no menos animoso, 175
con su venablo en mano, que hermoso.[232]
 Tras esto, el puerco allí se vía herido
de aquel mancebo por su mal valiente,
y el mozo en tierra estaba ya tendido,
abierto el pecho del rabioso diente; 180
con el cabello de oro desparcido
barriendo el suelo miserablemente,
las rosas blancas por allí sembradas
tornaba con su sangre coloradas.
Adonis este se mostraba que era, 185
según se muestra Venus dolorida,
que viendo la herida abierta y fiera,
estaba sobre él casi amortecida.
Boca con boca coge la postrera[233]
parte del aire que solía dar vida 190
al cuerpo, por quien ella en este suelo
aborrecido tuvo al alto cielo.
La blanca Nise no tomó a destajo
de los pasados casos la memoria,
y en la labor de su sutil trabajo 195
no quiso entretejer antigua historia;
antes mostrando de su claro Tajo
en su labor la celebrada gloria,
lo figuró en la parte donde él baña
la más felice tierra de la España.[234] 200
Pintado el caudaloso río se vía,
que, en áspera estrecheza reducido,
un monte casi al rededor teñía,
con ímpetu corriendo y con ruído;
querer cercallo todo parecía[235] 205
en su volver; mas era afán perdido;
dejábase correr, en fin, derecho,[236]
contento de lo mucho que había hecho.
Estaba puesta en la sublime cumbre
del monte, y desde allí por él sembrada, 210
aquella ilustre y clara pesadumbre,
de antiguos edificios adornada.
De allí con agradable mansedumbre
el Tajo va siguiendo su jornada,
y regando los campos y arboledas 215
con artificio de las altas ruedas.[237]
En la hermosa tela se veían
entretejidas las silvestres diosas
salir de la espesura, y que venían
todas a la ribera presurosas, 220
en el semblante tristes, y traían
cestillos blancos de purpúreas rosas,
las cuales esparciendo, derramaban
sobre una ninfa muerta que lloraban.[238]
Todas con el cabello desparcido[239] 225
lloraban una ninfa delicada,[240]
cuya vida mostraba que había sido
antes de tiempo y casi en flor cortada.[241]
Cerca del agua, en un lugar florido,
estaba entre la hierba degollada,[242] 230
cual queda el blanco cisne cuando pierde
la dulce vida entre la hierba verde.
Una de aquellas diosas, que en belleza,
al parecer, a todas ecedía,
mostrando en el semblante la tristeza 235
que del funesto y triste caso había,
apartada algún tanto, en la corteza
de un álamo unas letras escribía,
como epitafio de la ninfa bella,
que hablaban así por parte della: 240
«Elisa soy, en cuyo nombre suena
y se lamenta el monte cavernoso,
testigo del dolor y grave pena
en que por mí se aflige Nemoroso,
y llama Elisa; Elisa a boca llena 245
responde el Tajo, y lleva presuroso
al mar de Lusitania el nombre mío,[243]
donde será escuchado, yo lo fío.»
En fin, en esta tela artificiosa
toda la historia estaba figurada, 250