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Deicide	By : Need2ScreamNow Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Avenged Sevenfold Views: 1162 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't know, own, or have anything to do with A7x or their significant others. I'm not making any money off this and it's all fiction. Totally made up on a late Friday night.

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Deicide: A Person who kills a God.
The act of killing a God.
xXx

Barik Whitestone had been happy once, before his beloved wife Mae had been lost with their unborn daughter. A winter illness had clung to her through the first weeks of spring and before it was time for the fields to be plowed her spirit and their baby’s had fled to the underworld, Ehler.

Now, as Barik strolled through the yearly festival his small town Mozaik threw every year, he watched contemptuously as the citizens and roaming bards performed plays and sang songs praising the gods and goddesses that lived high above on the Kyne Mountain. He had been devoted once, he and Mae had even performed a time or two during the festival. He had been blind and naïve back then, confident that the gods and goddess would protect them from any misfortune. They had been forsaken though, no matter how many offerings he made to them, the deities had turned a blind eye to his plight and now Mae was dead.

He stopped at the edge of a ring of people, a young man and woman had drawn a crowd as they put on their own performance. The young woman’s cheeks were blood red with blush; her white flowing sleeved festival dress highlighted the red on her arms as the blush spread. Her suitor stared in mock horror at the handful of dead flowers he was holding. “Zaksha!” he cried out looking up to the mountain, “I stand here with a maiden beautiful beyond compare with flowers not worthy of a goat!” he dropped the dead flowers and from his sleeve pulled a long stemmed white rose, only just starting to open. The woman gasped and gingerly took the rose from him. A white rose of such beauty was a rarity and said her father had already given him permission to wed her. There was laughter and applause through the crowd as the impromptu show ended. Barik scowled and shook his head and continued on his way.

“Is it young love that makes you angry or something else?” A quiet voice asked from his side. His head jerked to the side, he hadn’t seen or heard the woman approach. She was dressed for the festival, as he was. Her white flowing sleeved dress was painstakingly embroidered along the V of her neck line. Her long dark hair was crowned with a small wreath of delicate blue flowers that offset her grey eyes.

Barik brushed imaginary dust from his loose white sleeve while he tried to collect himself. It was unwise to speak out against the deities, so many across the land were devoted and willing to cast a nonbeliever out, “I thought the show was a little much.” He said casually. She looked skeptical as she took in his scuffed boots and faded deerskin pants, not the appearance of one who took the festival or the deities seriously. “You make a poor effort of hiding your dislike.” She said disapprovingly. Barik bristled, “What do know or care?” he snapped. The woman looked over her shoulder at the looming mountain and then back at him, in her grey eyes was cold anger, “I know those gods and goddesses are not as powerful as they think they are.” She said quietly. Barik snorted and continued walking, the woman fell in step beside him, “Before my father died,” she said a little too quietly for glib conversation, “he told me of a man cursed by the gods.”

Barik barked out a laugh, “I can think of many of those myself.” He waved her comment off. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to a less populated area, not something hard to do since most of the festival patrons were making their way to the theatre where the next show was starting.

“This is a man in few stories.” She said lowly, “This man has found the weakness of the deities.” She let her words hang. Barik turned them over and looked her over critically before saying, “I’ve never heard of such a man.” He said bluntly. She shook her head, “You really think the gods want that story told right under their noses?” She gave him a look like she expected him to be smarter. Barik crossed his arms over his chest, “And what story is this?”

“I won’t speak it here, no telling if Zaksha or Jolimi are among us.” She said quietly walking away. Barik caught up to her, “Tell me your name at least. After the festival we can speak privately.” He didn’t want to be interested in the story and even with his dislike of the gods he felt he was slipping into waters deeper than he could swim.

“Kisha.” She said simply, “My guardian is a silk merchant here for the festival, he won’t miss me for some hours while he counts his money.” The disdain in her voice was palpable. Barik started to drop back some, if the other townspeople saw them together their tongues would start wagging, “Barik. My home is on the other side of the eastern hill.” He said gruffly and then turned and joined a raucous group of people heading toward a wine vendor.

At sunset the festival truly started, during the day there were plays and songs but at night people ate and drank themselves into a stupor. Barik watched as the offering fires were lit. A dozen head of cattle and a dozen more sheep and goats were corralled nearby waiting to be sacrificed. From the blazing west Barik saw a shadow skim low and drop down. Red and purple light from the sun caught Zaksha’s pearl white wings. He could almost hear the collective gasp of the gathered people and then as one they bowed low. The lingering unease he had about listening to Kisha’s story disappeared. These gods were not worthy of worship when they turned away from the suffering of their people. They didn’t deserve this festival or any of the others done across their land. He turned away from the festival in disgust and made his way down the hill to his dark home. He had to do a little sweeping to make the place presentable for company and also had to start a fire for food since he wasn’t attending the feast.

After dark blanketed the land there was a soft knock on his door. He was sitting by the fire staring out at his rows of grain lost in thought when he heard it. He shook himself and quickly got up to let Kisha in. She entered without pleasantries, she had changed her clothes from festival white to a dark short sleeved dress and her dark hair was covered with a scarf. Barik had changed out of his festival clothes into more practical field clothes. His dark pants and shirt didn’t show the dirt stains very well but he still felt a little self-conscious having a woman as lovely as Kisha in his home.

Once she had taken the chair offered she folded her hands on the table and while she spoke she kept her eyes moving around the room as if looking for spies. “I don’t think anyone knows this man’s name any more, once the gods cursed him people wanted nothing to do with him. He’s cursed to roam and any that try to help him will have misfortune fall on their home. A heavy punishment for something that was little more than an accident.” Her tone turned to disgust and she looked at the wall that faced the celebration, “People fawn over them hoping they’ll keep them safe.” She shook her head and composed herself once again before speaking, “He found a plant, so my father told me, a flower that grows only at the ends of the earth. It’s called Hypopsis and according to the story if you make a tea out of it you can turn a god mortal or if it’s made into a paste it can be smeared on a weapon and deliver a killing blow.” She finished in little more than a whisper and her eyes darted faster around the room. Barik stared at her, floored by what she had said, what she had implied.

“This is beyond blasphemy.” He whispered. Kisha’s eyes landed on him hard and angry again, “The blasphemy here is worshipping something that refuses to help after years of devotion. That is the blasphemy!” her voice rose from a whisper to an angry snarl and Barik’s horror subsided. He slowly nodded, “Yes, yes it is.” He remembered his lovely Mae’s face drawn tight with pain and gray with sickness as she prayed day and night for someone to help. He remembered the animals he sacrificed and his own prayers given up to deaf ears and blind eyes. Still, even considering finding this plant, much less using it, made him ill with fear. Kisha’s anger turned to a steely resolve, “Now you know the story, are you willing to see if it’s true?” her voice didn’t waver but Barik didn’t rush to his decision. If the story wasn’t true he could return here and live out the rest of his life quietly hating the deities. If it was true, he could topple the power the gods held over the people. If it was true, he could finally avenge his Mae’s unnecessary death. He looked into Kisha’s grey eyes and nodded once, “Where do we need to go?”

*~*~*

It didn’t seem real to be leaving his home. The docile mare Kisha loaned him for their journey plodded down the road leading out of Mozaik like it was any other road, which it was. But Barik was convinced at the fork there would be some kind of wall built keeping him from leaving. They took the north fork without any trouble. Barik was curious to what Kisha had told her guardian about her leaving but refrained from asking, she had a fiery spirit and he didn’t want her angry at him. He wanted to discuss what they would do if they found this Hypopsis plant but didn’t ask that either. If Zaksha had been at the feast the night before he was probably still roaming around and with all the wine that flowed during these festivals Jolimi, god of wine and merriment, was sure to be lurking around as well. So he let the horse pick her way down the road and stewed in his thoughts.

By nightfall Barik was further from home than he ever thought he would be. They paid for a night at an inn under the lie of being newlyweds. The innkeeper gave them a discount and a room away from the other guests.

When they were secure in their room Barik couldn’t hold his thoughts any longer, “What are we going to do after we find this…thing.” Prudence won over his need to satisfy his curiosity. Kisha unwrapped the scarf from her head and shook her hair out, the candlelight made it glow a warm mahogany. “That’s the hard part.” She said cautiously. “I think the easiest thing to do would be to make a paste, but if we want it to be strong enough it will have to be fresh.”

“I’m more concerned with Airn.” Barik said. The warrior god of prophecy and divination could easily see the danger they posed before they reached the end of the world to get this plant. Kisha snorted, “He doesn’t read the future for every mortal.” She said disdainfully. Barik sat on one of the low beds, “No, but he may very well see what’s coming once we have this, thing.”

That made Kisha pause and she sat down on the bed next to him, “Then we must hide ourselves.” She said slowly, “With time. He may see something, but if we don’t act immediately the visions will stay shadowy.” She finished confidently. Barik turned that over in his mind and nodded, “Yes, that should work. Now, about keeping this thing fresh?” he raised an eyebrow. Kisha nodded, “I haven’t come up with anything either.”

Now it was Barik’s turn to snort, “We can just get a start of it and bring it back.” In his tone he made it sound obvious, which for him, a farmer, it was. Kisha stared at him in shock, “You want to bring back a start of this thing, a start, and grow it right under their noses? Where do you think you’re going to put it? Will you just let it grow wild on the hillside and hope they don’t notice?” she laughed bitterly. Barik scowled, “We have short summers, every farmer that wants to feed his family in the winter has a growing room under his house where he starts his plants.” He finished smugly. Kisha’s laughter cut off and she stared at him again, “Truly? You can do this?” she breathed. Barik nodded, “It won’t be hard to hide, I never have visitors.”

“Then…we’ll just bring a start back.” Kisha said, the disbelief was still thick in her voice and Barik didn’t bother to hide his smirk.

“You’re handsome when you smile.” She observed. Barik’s smile disappeared and his mouth dropped open some. Kisha got up without another word and blew out the candles before lying down on her bed. Barik lay back and stared at the ceiling. He had convinced himself years ago that his tanned and hard lined face wasn’t anything to look at. The eligible women in Mozaik avoided him, probably because of his gruff demeanor, but he had never caught even a glancing look from any of them. His hands were rough from years of hard work and his body was wiry and scarred from an equally hard life. He shrugged off the comment after awhile and rolled over and went to sleep.

*~*~*

Airn sat up in bed sweating in fear, beside him Zaksha stirred and sat up as well, “What’s wrong?” he murmured, his warm breath brushed his shoulder and it was quickly followed by soft lips. Airn lay back again holding him close, one of his hands ran over the graceful arch of downy feathers sprouting from his back. Zaksha purred and started to fall asleep again, “Airn?” he mumbled.

“Nothing Zaksha, just an odd dream.” He whispered. The small messenger god took that excuse and was soon asleep again. Airn closed his eyes but didn’t sleep; he let his mind open and tried to find the vision that had jerked him from sleep. He found the shadows but they refused to solidify. The entire vision was coated in a dark film and all he could see were the most rudimentary outlines of bodies. Hovering over the entire thing was a sick feeling of fear and loss and pain. He growled and focused harder trying to see anything that would help identify the place or the figures.

“Odd dream, huh?” Zaksha murmured from his side. Airn let go of the vision and relaxed his tense muscles, “Nothing I can see.” He muttered. Zaksha nuzzled his side, “Then go back to sleep, you’re making the room buzz.”

Airn relaxed completely and felt the low hum of power surrounding him collapse back into him. He rolled over and hugged Zaksha close to his chest and tried to dismiss the shadowy vision.

*~*~*

When people say ‘the ends of the earth’ Barik really thought it would be farther from Mozaik. After only a month of travel though, they had apparently reached the end of the world. Kisha dismounted and stepped gingerly toward a tree engulfed by a vine of delicate white and pink flowers. Their perfume was almost overpowering and Barik wrinkled his nose some against the onslaught of flowery scent.

“They’re beautiful.” Kisha said quietly, she reached out and touched one of the flowers and pulled back sucking on the finger, “Thorny too.” She craned her neck back to look at the wispy tops of the vines. “I can’t believe it’s here. Here in the open, just where the stories said it was.” She did a quick sweep of the surrounding forest but there were only the usual forest sounds, nothing signaling an approaching monster or army of devotees.

Barik slid off the mare’s back and searched around the base of the tree. Kisha took her eyes off the flowers and watched him for a second with a frown creasing her forehead, “What are you doing?”

“We need to find a start to take back.” He waved in the general direction of a couple other trees that had tendrils of Hypopsis starting to grow up their trunks, “We don’t want to take a big one because it’ll be harder to hide. We want a little—like this.” He said triumphantly. He worked his fingers deep into the rich soil and scooped the tiny plant up. In a passing glance it looked like a baby fern not yet unfurled, but Barik’s experienced eye saw the tiny, tiny vine tendrils just starting to branch off. “We have what we need.” He said. Suddenly the sick feeling came back as he held the plant.

“Then let’s go back.” Kisha said quietly. The confident attitude she had kept up during their journey dropped as she stared at the small plant. Barik saw a flash of unease in her grey eyes, but as soon as she caught him looking it was covered. Barik carefully stowed the fragile plant in a saddlebag and swung up onto his mare’s back again. Kisha led the way out and Barik let his horse follow while he looked back at the thick swath of flowers burying the tree. The vine was beautiful but he could see its wicked curving thorns digging into the tree.

xXx

A/N: I decided to re-post this, A) Because it’s still harassing me and B) Because I can’t think of a good way to resolve the vampire story. So, voila. And, just so you know now, this is going to be a slow update. I have the first couple of chapters done but the ending will be a long time coming.
Thank you for reading and reviewing ^_^
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Deicide