The God Makers

By Guy Estes

The problem with trying to trap the Death Queens is you run the risk of succeeding.

Over a year ago, Aleena Kurrin, divinely gifted warrior, and her adoptive sister, Baezha Ambrose, divinely gifted sorceress, faced the unnatural monsters of the Shingora – the Eighth Hell. The sisters triumphed, but their victory felt hollow, their souls scarred by guilt – though they saved many people, they failed others, something for which they cannot forgive themselves. Making things worse is the fact that the mysterious alchemists responsible for creating those monsters remain unknown... or do they?

A group of alchemists calling themselves the God Makers has set up shop just outside the alchemists’ guild’s jurisdiction, and they sound exactly like those who created the abominations on the Shingora. Haunted by their failures on the Shingora, the sisters must know for certain if the God Makers are who they fear, and if so, put them out of business. Permanently.

But when they get to the God Makers’ lair, they discover their fears fell short of reality. The God Makers’ master, Arleth, means to show the world just what they’re capable of, threatening a city and the sisters’ loved ones in the process. And the sisters would make an invaluable addition to his ranks... whether they want to or not.

To save their loved ones and a city of innocent people, the sisters chosen by the gods clash with those who would create gods, all while trying to accomplish the most difficult task of all – forgiving themselves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Guy Estes
• Release date: Dec 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005716004

Guy Estes

Guy Estes was born in Huntsville, Alabama in 1970 and grew up on his family's ancestral home in New Iberia, Louisiana, where he currently resides with his family. His grandchildren are the eighth generation of his family to grow up on the place, which was occupied by Union troops during the Civil War. He has a BA in social studies education and an MA in European history. His day job is an instructor at a small safety consultation company. He taught public school for three years and, as a result, no longer fears hell.

Book preview

THE GOD MAKERS

Book 5 of Sisters of the Storm

By Guy Estes

How glorious it is – and also how painful – to be an exception. – Alfred de Musset

False guilt is guilt felt at not being what other people feel one ought to be or assume that one is. – R.D. Laing

The samurai always has to rise and move on, because new challenges will come. – Lyoto Machida

Chapter 1

Oleg and his companions didn’t know it yet, but they had, in fact, committed suicide. To be fair, though, they were all champions on the fight masters’ guild and thus had good reason to be confident; one does not become a champion on the fight masters’ guild without the proper credentials.

Are we certain they are there? one of them asked. They might be away on a job.

They are there. The adventurers’ guild is finally forming. They were going to over a year ago, but the aftermath of the Shingora disaster delayed things. Now they’re ready to proceed.

And we know for certain they are joining the adventurers’ guild?

They are if they want to keep their livelihoods. Just as if we fight masters want to be fight masters, we must be on the fight masters’ guild. If they want to continue adventuring, they’ll have to be on the adventurers’ guild.

And so the four men rode to Sharleah, a mid-sized town in the Kerdonia Province and home to their quarry.

* * *

Aleena sat on the front porch of her new home in the middle of the night. The nightmares woke her, as they had so often lately, and she could not go back to sleep, so she sat out here and drank, a sheathed sword nearby. Her nightmares were always about the Shingora, the gods damned Shingora, and the horrors she experienced there; if one was lucky, the horrors merely took one’s life. It was called the Eighth Hell for good reason.

She took a swig of burning liquor as her mind dragged her through her memories yet again; those poor bastards who transformed into srathsa, one of the more horrifying blasphemies of nature on the Shingora, a serpent/human hybrid with a nest of tentacles for a head. The one who retained the most of his humanity had the flesh around his head growing into a mass of tentacles, making his distorted face look like the center of a hellish flower as he begged for death in a voice choked with horror…

Then there were the sothlorae, pack hunters whose blood could transform people into a sothlora. The only thing worse than watching the transformation succeed was watching it fail – then the victim melted into a puddle of offal.

Her dear friend Drahka, clutching at the large spine embedded in his stomach. He pulled it out, but it was too late. It had done its work. The venom, made from sothlora blood, was inside him, venom for which there was no antidote.

It is too late for me, Aleena. We both know that.

She didn’t want to believe him, but she knew he was right.

We’ve seen what happens, and how soon it happens. There is but one thing to do.

His body jerked as the pain took hold, and the venom began its work.

I will not die a death like that, he affirmed, his breath coming in gasps. And I know… I ask… a great favor.

He knelt. He sheathed his long sword, then took its shorter companion piece from his sash and held them both out to her.

I pass them on to the one who is worthy. I know you will give them a good home.

She wanted to scream her defiance at the unfairness of it all, but she knew he was right, and they were out of time.

I do not die on my knees, he said, but bowing in gratitude. I did not know you long, Aleena, but you are the truest friend I have ever had.

Tears streaming, Aleena stepped around him, so she was on his left side.

Good bye, my friend, she said, weeping. She knew time to spare him a horrible fate was short, but she was loath to deliver the blow.

I must save him. There has to be a way. I’m the Battle Queen!

Yet she knew he was beyond saving. All she could do for him was to make his end quick. Her enchanted blade, set as sharp as she could, so she knew it would cut clean, swept down…

She came out of her reverie, tears hot upon her face, and sniffled, then took a long draft of burning liquor. She looked off to the side, where Drahka’s sheathed sword stood, then snorted and shook her head.

One who is worthy! What rot! If only Drahka could’ve seen my colossal failure a few hours later…

Which was where her memories took her next.

They were on the beach, waiting for the boats, when Graff made his last move and Aleena went to stop him. A few hours prior, she had handled him like he was a novice rather than a master on the fight masters’ guild. Now he sent her sailing away with a single blow, his fist denting her enchanted armor. She went at him again, but he grabbed her by the throat and effortlessly lifted her off her feet. The fact that in her armor she weighed around one hundred ninety pounds did not hinder him in the slightest; unknown to her, he’d taken strength and speed potions a few moments ago. He held her off to his side, so she couldn’t reach his eyes or any other soft parts, and kicked Gannon, a young man her age, with enough force to send him flying. Gannon’s parents were there, watching the whole thing. His mother, Cora, screamed. Gannon’s father, Geron, High Councilor of the fight master’s guild, came at Graff with a sword, but Graff used Aleena’s armored body to block his blows, then struck him with enough force to drop him senseless. Others tried to stop him but failed. Aleena struggled in his grip the entire time. Then he strolled over to Gannon, grinning.

You almost had him to safety, Graff told Cora. Geron had come back to his senses. Such a pity.

He kicked Cora away.

And you, he said to Aleena, still holding her off to the side, failed him, as well.

Aleena struck his arm with her fists and kicked his leg, the only parts of him she could reach, but it only drew a snort of contempt. He stomped on Gannon’s head, crushing it like a grape. Gannon’s entire body jerked with one big spasm, then went still. Cora and Geron cried out. Cora charged and swung a falcata at him. He used Aleena to block her and kicked her away. He did the same to Geron.

And now, he said to Aleena as he brought her around and held her directly in front of him, you get what you so richly deserve.

She kicked him in the crotch, making him drop her, but he then proceeded to beat the holy essence out of her, making her enchanted armor look like a scrap heap and inflicting several wounds on her, including driving a sword at her with enough force to pierce her enchanted armor. Though she did eventually manage to kill Graff, it was too late to do Cora and Geron any good. Their son had been murdered right in front of them because Aleena failed to stop Graff soon enough, after she’d sworn to get Gannon back safely. After the fight, she went to them, but no words of comfort sprang to mind. She could only stand there, feeling useless and intrusive.

You useless bitch! Cora shrieked, her face red and twisted. Why didn’t you save him? After all you’ve done, why didn’t you save him?

Aleena’s mind returned to the present, black loathing washing over her, engulfing her like an octopus engulfing a crab.

You idiot. You gods damned useless idiot. Potions or no, he was but one man, and you are Chosen, are you not, gifted by the gods in the arts of war? The very perfection of the gods, or so they all say, and yet you could not save one young man from one mere mortal.

She took another deep, burning draft of liquor, tears spilling down her face.

What good is a gift if you can’t put it to proper use?

Baezha, Aleena’s adoptive sister and best friend, sat in her room on the second floor of their house, gazing at the stars through her open window. She, too, was haunted by dreams of the Shingora. As a sorceress she was somewhat more inured to the horror of people transforming into monstrosities than Aleena, though it still disturbed her. Alexandra had gotten accidentally dosed with a potion that was slowly transforming her into a srathsa. Baezha swore on her very gift to save her. In the end, she killed her, along with Jason. They needed to bring down the tunnels in the mountain, and the only way to do that was by using the upwelling of magical energies within the mountain itself, and the only one who stood any chance of succeeding was Baezha. She brought the tunnels down, true enough, but at the cost of crushing and burying everything in them, including Alexandra and Jason. Baezha swore to save that woman, that she would not allow her to change into one of those things.

Well, crushing her under a mountain certainly ensured she would not change into one of those things, didn’t it?

The raw magical power of the upwelling was levels of magnitude beyond anything she’d ever dealt with before. Controlling it was like trying to control an avalanche.

You are Chosen, are you not? Gifted by the gods in sorcery. The living definition of the perfect sorceress. That’s why they call you the Witch Queen, is it not? To be worthy of all that, you should’ve succeeded.

Tears streamed down her face.

You swore on your very gift to save her. Instead, you murdered her, along with poor Jason. Why did the gods gift you, of all people, to be Chosen?

Clearly, she whispered in a tremulous voice, "they made a mistake.

* * *

Aleena and Baezha sat at a table at Jac’s tavern the next day, taking their midday meal. Ilian and Ivarr, Aleena’s birth parents and Baezha’s adoptive ones, sat with them, along with two of their mentors – Rita, Headmistress of Sharleah’s academy, and Madigan, sorcerer and old family friend. The sisters were not happy, and their loved ones knew why; they were in town to join the adventurers’ guild.

They were going to form the adventurers’ guild eventually, Ivarr said. A master blacksmith, he was a big man with a trim beard and tan skin. Too many people were making livings the way you do and not answering to anyone.

I know, Aleena said with a sigh, her storm cloud eyes glaring as she brushed a honey-colored tress from her face, but I don’t have to like it.

No, you don’t, Ilian said. She had silky brown hair and hazel eyes and was a member of the weavers’ guild. But I think you’ll find it’s not as bad as you’re expecting.

Perhaps not, but the mere fact that they’re forcing us tells me what I need to know. And the whole idea is just so stupid – forcing a bunch of lone adventurers to work together? What part of the word ‘lone’ do they not understand? We were doing just fine on our own. I see no reason why we must cast aside a method that worked perfectly well and replace it with one that not only doesn’t solve any problems, it will likely create new ones.

Like what?

Other people, Baezha said. She had eyes of obsidian and hair like a curtain of sable. And all the complications that come with them – petty rivalries, squabbling, jealousies, currying favor, jockeying for position, back stabbing, boot licking and other forms of general stupidity.

Everything we despise, Aleena said.

There’s that, Ivarr conceded with a nod, but belonging to a guild also has numerous advantages.

Well, the law requires us to join if we want to keep working, Baezha said with a sigh, so I suppose we’ll just have to see, won’t we?

Aleena was a warrior while Baezha was a sorceress as well as a warrior. Both of them were Chosen, meaning the gods had gifted them with eternal, incorruptible beauty and near superhuman skill in one area – the warrior arts for Aleena and magic for Baezha – and strong aptitude in another – the bardic arts for Aleena and the warrior arts for Baezha. The Chosen were exceedingly rare; Aleena and Baezha were the only two in existence.

Yet Aleena was not a member of the fight masters’ guild, and Baezha was not on the sorcerers’ guild. They mostly made their livings escorting trade caravans, or jobs for private employers. Their last big job had been body guarding royalty in the city of Bukahr. Before that, they had been on the Shingora expedition. Both jobs had paid them so well they purchased land and built a nice home. Other people made similar livings – bounty hunting, body guarding, recovering stolen property, and otherwise slipping through the cracks in guild law. The guilds filled those cracks by creating a new guild for such people, the adventurers’ guild, and anyone wishing to continue with such careers had to join.

I hope I‘m not broaching too sensitive a topic, Madigan said, his dark hair and goatee streaked with silver, but you two have been in rather ill humor of late, and I don’t think it’s entirely due to the formation of the adventurers’ guild.

You’re right, Baezha said. And we apologize.

What so vexes you? Rita said. Her dark hair had a bit of grey, and she kept it in a single long braid.

The Shingora, Aleena answered.

It still haunts you? Ilian said.

It still haunts us both, Aleena said. After our job in Bukahr, things seemed to settle down a bit, but the nightmares came back, going from a sometime thing to every night. And they’re getting worse.

And when one of us dreams of it, Baezha said, it affects the other.

Being the only two Chosen in the world, born at the exact same moment, Aleena and Baezha were linked in a way similar to twins.

It’s been more than a year since you returned from the Shingora, Ilian said to Aleena.

I know that, Aleena snapped. Don’t you think we would shed this grief if we could?

I do, Ilian said, holding her hands out to placate Aleena, but Aleena was not placated.

It’s not as though we enjoy being tormented. One moment we’re fine, and the next we’re drowning in guilt and sorrow and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it!

Aleena, I only –

And then someone comes along who feels the need to poke a sharp stick in it instead of leaving us the bloody hell alone! All the while telling us we must be of good cheer because they can’t bloody stand to be around us anymore! Well, pardon the holy essence out of us if we cannot simply put the horror behind us and be of good bloody cheer!

Everyone at the table fell silent after her tirade. She glared at the table surface with almost enough intensity to set it on fire. Tears welled in Ilian’s eyes.

Surely you can – she started to say in a quivering voice, but she couldn’t finish. She put a hand to her mouth and looked away, tears sliding down her cheeks.

Gods damn it! Aleena growled, and she got up from the table and stormed away.

In addition to guilt and sorrow, Baezha told them, we also find ourselves randomly overtaken with rage.

It doesn’t give either of you the right to talk to us that way, Ivarr said.

No, Baezha agreed, it doesn’t.

They sat in dense silence for a few minutes before Ivarr got up to go find Aleena. Jac, the tavern owner and long-time friend, motioned to one of the back rooms. Ivarr nodded and went to them. He found Aleena alone in one. She drank something from a horn cup. She turned and looked at him when he came in, then looked down and away.

I, she said in a small voice, I don’t know what comes over me, Father. One moment I’m fine, then the next I’m immersed in grief, or guilt… or rage. I’m going about a perfectly normal day, then it comes up out of nowhere, like a bog that suddenly appears beneath my feet, clinging to me, sucking me down, and I cannot pull myself out, no matter how I try, and I sink deeper and deeper into the black muck. Sometimes just getting out of bed takes monumental effort, like pushing a mountain off of me, even after a solid night’s sleep. I can make no sense of it. There’s no rhyme or reason to it whatsoever. I cannot even predict what will set it off. It’s completely random and I can gain no control over it. I, She took another gulp from her cup as tears started. I can’t get a grip on it! I don’t know what it is, I don’t understand any of it, and I can’t… I just can’t seem to…

Ivarr went to her and embraced her. She plastered himself to him and wept. He held her, smelling the liquor she drank, feeling huge and clumsy and useless. Having never experienced anything like the torment his daughter endured, he had no idea what to say.

Aleena?

They turned to the voice and saw Ilian in the doorway. Aleena pulled away from her father and went to her mother, her arms open.

Mother, I’m so sorry! Ilian took her in her arms. I’m so sorry for what I said! I don’t know why I did that! I don’t know what’s happening to me! I’m sorry! Forgive me! I –

Ilian patted her back and shushed her.

It’s all right, she said.

No, it’s not. There’s something terribly wrong with me. Me and Baezha both.

You went through a horrible experience, the like of which we cannot fathom.

That’s no excuse! I’ve no right to treat you like that! I… I need to fix this… but I’ve no idea how.

We will figure it out, Ilian quietly assured her as Ivarr came over to embrace them, his massive presence a warm, solid comfort. Somehow.

When you make up your mind to do something, Ivarr said, you get it done. This will be no different. You will overcome this foe just as you have all others.

After a few moments, they returned to their table.

I’m sorry, Aleena told them. I don’t know what’s happening to us. Like I said earlier, things seemed to be calming down, but then it suddenly flared up again, worse than ever.

And neither of us has any idea how to stop it, or even control it, Baezha said.

From what I gather, Madigan said, all the survivors from the Shingora expedition are having difficulties. They’re forever consulting with physicians, alchemists, sorcerers, priests and priestesses.

For what? Ivarr asked.

Relief, my friend. Poor devils are tormented and are desperate for anything that will bring surcease. Many have turned to drink. Others have come to the sorcerers’ guild, asking for spells to wipe the memories of the event from their minds. Some have even taken their own lives.

Of all the adventures the sisters had been on, the Shingora expedition was the one that truly mauled their spirits. That experience exposed them to horrors they found difficult to process. They had been plagued by nightmares ever since, as well as by moods of anger and sorrow that came and went like sudden storms, or a pervasive melancholy that would not go away. And the guilt never abated, crushing guilt that sat on them like imps sitting on their chests, stealing their breath. So many good people died such horrible deaths on that mission, while here the sisters were, alive and whole, beautiful and gifted, flush with coin and enjoying a new home.

What did we do to deserve such reward, Aleena wondered. What did all those good people do to deserve such horrifying deaths?

We would help you ease your burdens, Rita told them.

I know, Aleena said, but we cannot comprehend our sorrow ourselves, much less articulate it to someone.

We’ve prayed to the gods for guidance on how to resolve this, Baezha said, and we beg your patience.

Of course, Madigan said with a gentle smile.

* * *

Ladies and gentlemen, we are facing nothing less than the very extinction of our profession.

Victor Maarsten, the High Councilor of the alchemists’ guild, looked around at his fellow councilors. Counting Maarsten, there were thirteen. Maarsten’s short gray hair lay flat on his head, and he had a trim beard and moustache.

I think you’re perhaps being a bit dramatic, Victor, one of them said.

Am I, Nordham? We’ve all seen the documents recovered by the Shingora expedition. That is but a fraction of what those rogue alchemists were doing. They made advances far beyond anything we’re capable of.

Potions with permanent, irreversible effects, a female councilor said. Who needs a steady supply of potions when a single dose will do the job forever?

Nordham sighed as he nodded and looked down.

And while our expedition destroyed their facility on the Shingora, Maarsten reminded them, the alchemists themselves were not there, so they’re still lurking about out there somewhere.

We must eliminate them, an older councilor said, and eradicate every scrap of this knowledge. Without repeat customers, we’re done for.

But think of the good we could do with it, the youngest councilor said. We could create healing potions that regrow lost limbs, or forever restore disfigured faces.

There are many arguments to be made as to just what we must do with these new developments, Maarsten said, but first we must control them. And so now we have these people on that island –

Someone is on the Shingora again?

No, this is a small island three leagues off our coast, outside of Delium, a rock nobody ever bothered to name. This group that set up shop there, these so-called God Makers, are claiming to produce potions with permanent effects. Some claim they can make people Chosen.

What? the woman said. That’s absurd.

Is it? Perhaps they can’t make people Chosen in the traditional sense of the term, but potions with permanent effects could be the functional equivalent, or perhaps even exceed the Chosen; beauty potions, strength and speed potions, potions to boost intelligence, healing and regenerative potions and all of them permanent? Imagine one person taking all of them. He would have eternal beauty and all possible gifts, not just two. And because of these promises, people are starting to flock to them. We’ve already seen a drop in profits.

But on that island they’re outside our jurisdiction, Nordham said. Legally, we can do nothing.

Nevertheless, Maarsten replied, "I move we dispatch executors to investigate. If