Without hesitation, Mascen reached to push Rhiamon into one of the carefully cultivated rows. She was tricky and light on her feet, hopping to avoid her mother’s hard work with a smirk.
Mascen frowned and leaped after Rhaimon, who had taken off with a whoop of joy, running towards the fields. Despite their difference in age and size, Rhaimon was able to keep ahead of Mascen, smile fierce and wide, bright teeth flashing against ebony skin.
“Did you see that?” Esha asked Va'al, poking her finger down into the dirt to create a little hollow for the seed she kept warm in her palm. “He’s aggressive and obstinate. I worry he’ll affect Rhaimon,” Esha dropped the seed into the hole and covered it. Patting the dirt into place, she held her palm over the spot, endowing it with the strength to grow and flourish.
Her pale blue eyes drifted to Va'al, brows knitting with concern, and her empty hand moved to the swell of her belly, carrying another life there. Another child to worry about, to protect from his ‘hostile’ offspring.
Va'al snorted, watching his children chase each other through the spring day. It was more entertaining by far than helping to plant or tidy or any of the other infernally tedious chores that Esha seemed determined to fill their days with. She had plenty of followers— why couldn’t one of them handle the planting?
“He’s just a kid, Esha,” he said, yawning when the children seemed likely to do nothing more interesting. “Children play.”
Hopefully, Enyo would get over her last fit of temper sooner rather than later and come pick up the boy so that he could cause a bit of trouble. The endless months with Esha were beginning to make his skin itch.
Hells, he might as well just take Mascen with him. The boy did seem to have a propensity for mischief.
The fertility Goddess shook her head mournfully. “I spend time with children—many of them. I understand children. He is not just a child, and to think of him as such is an exercise in denial.”
With the grace that only a Goddess could possess, Esha stood, dusting her hands off as she watched Rhaimon and Mascen disappear into the fields of rolling wheat. “He needs order and love to temper his erratic and aggressive nature.” Despite her own ‘order’ and ‘love’ for the past seven odd moons, Mascen’s behavior hadn’t changed an ounce. He was too wild. Too willful. Too like his mother. Unbiddable as the wind.
Which would show just how much Esha knew about the raising of God children.
Instead of arguing with her anymore, however, Va'al just smiled. “Perhaps you are right, but even so, it will take time. Come, let them play.”
He tugged her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to her wrist, breathing in the warm smells of earth and skin. He might take Mascen and leave soon, but he meant to enjoy her in the meantime. Esha frowned though her eyes were on his lips. Esha rarely denied him, even when they disagreed.
“You aren’t worried by his nature?”
Va'al shoved aside a twinge of annoyance. He was tired of these talks. She seemed to bring it up at every opportunity these days. “No, of course not. Children are meant to be rambunctious. Children of the Gods even more so. He’ll grow out of it.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Esha wanted to know, coming closer despite her chastising tone. He had her now.
“Then you will get to say that you were right and I was wrong.” He pulled her tight against him, his voice dropping. “And wouldn’t you enjoy that?”
He knew he had won when she melted into him, her mouth parted for a kiss. She was willing enough to be quieted for a time, quite unlike the boy’s mother. Still, he would be glad to have Enyo back, if only to be relieved from raising their child for a time.
Chapter XVIII
Seventh Moon, Waxing Gibbous: Thloegr
“No. I’m saying you couldn’t possibly begin to understand the fortitude it takes to wrestle a bear, let alone mate with it. Bears don’t care about wry smiles and pretty words. Which is about all you’re good for.”
The fact that this topic was still being brought up, even three weeks later, and debated between Enyo and Tristan, was ridiculous. Even more so was the fact that she was getting quite heated about it, both clinging to Tristan’s arm as he was currently ‘in’ her favor and glaring up at him in a mixture of displeasure and adoration. As if it mattered, his offhand comment about Delyth’s heritage.
But whenever Enyo was bored, she’d bring the topic up, Tristan would inevitably rise to her bait, and the bantering would begin. It was very likely that Enyo simply enjoyed the conflict, or perhaps the annoyance the topic brought to her human companions. Whatever the reason, when things were too quiet, too comfortable…
“I doubt you could even rise to the occasion—” One of her regular taunts on the topic.
Along with these occasional debates, the weeks had been filled with a fair bit of bickering. Not just with Enyo. If she wasn’t creating animosity, then Tristan seemed to have a talent for stirring up resentments and insecurities. He could get Alphonse to weep within a matter of minutes if he really wanted to, if Delyth or Etienne didn’t step in first.
He was the master of earning icy glares from Delyth and had once managed to make Etienne so flustered that his face had turned red, and the sorcerer lost control of himself enough to deliberately set Tristan’s cloak on fire.
Enyo had laughed herself sick at the sight.
Slowly the time that Enyo was in control started to increase. Sometimes for an hour or more, others for long stretches of the day. Even with an entire night’s rest and a full belly, Alphonse would have moments of wretched silence that seemed to indicate a struggle to remain herself.
Her moods were more fragile, as well. Alphonse, who never shouted and never showed frustration, snapped at Etienne once over the campfire. Another time she told Tristan that he could keep his ogling eyes to himself. Sharp words for the customarily composed and soft-spoken healer.
Of course, she apologized, even to Tristan, later, but Alphonse knew the others noticed her strangeness and surely wondered what it meant.
She knew what it meant.
For she remembered more and more of what Enyo was up to when in control. Which surely meant that Enyo was also aware when Alphonse was in charge. And slipping in her own impulses.
The sickness weighed heavier with each step, and the voice in the back of her mind spoke more frequently. At times it was useful, pointing out animal tracks or a field of root vegetables they could eat.
Other times begging to run, to dance, to be free.
To drink.
That one command Alphonse ignored above all else, and the voice would snarl viciously and rake its claws against her mind. Those were the times she could not speak at all for the pain within her skull, or lashed out, snapping unkindly at her poor companions.
It terrified her, that feeling of infinite hunger.
Her only respite, it seemed, was the few quiet moments she and Delyth could steal, limited as they were. Before bed, upon waking, or even just curled up the fire, water boiling for tea. Sometimes she was too tired to even speak, but the closeness the priestess and Alphonse shared was a balm. Other days they would chat idly of times and places far away from here. Far away from Enyo. Far away from the fate that Alphonse was slowly becoming resigned to.
While they were careful with open affection—Alphonse, because she wasn’t the type to be overly public with her feelings, Delyth, because she had no interest in airing her private business—things seemed comfortable. More natural. Almost relaxed between the two.
Alphonse was utterly grateful for this closeness, for as they traveled further north, further along those mountain ranges, the nights became bitterly cold. The days too, were becoming brisk and chilly. It was difficult to remember that in the lowlands of Ingola, it was full summer now. Had she been back in her home village, or even the sheltered halls of Moxous, she would have been covered in a thin sheen of sweat always.
Here she wore two thickly woven shawls and woolen stockings, even to bed. Except
when Enyo got it into her head to ‘bathe in sunlight’ as she put it, casting off all clothes and parading about in jaunty glory.
At least today, she was still clothed, and while there was a crisp breeze, the sun was bright and warm. Alphonse did her best to focus on that rather than Enyo bickering with Tristan, yet again.
⚄
For Tristan, the last moon of the journey had been thoroughly less enjoyable than the first. He now had to vie for Enyo’s attention as though the halfbreed was anywhere near his equal. It was made worse by the fact that Delyth rarely seemed to do much to earn her place in Enyo’s affections. Other than a few memorable moments in which Tristan had managed to get the skinny manling spitting mad, Etienne was growing more and more distant, his entertainment value dwindling in the process. Alphonse and Delyth had become positively gushy when they thought he wouldn’t notice. All smiles and longing looks.
Damn them.
Enyo’s fixation on the ins and outs of bear fucking didn’t help either. She was so sure that he wasn’t man enough.
Well fine. He was done with the whole idea.
“Perhaps I wouldn’t be able to rise to the occasion,” Tristan said. His voice was all smooth smiles. “But if the stories about you are true, you’ve made mistakes in the art of sex as well.”
Delyth strode a few paces ahead of them, Etienne dragging a few behind. Tristan stopped in the middle of the road and called out to both of them.
“Have either of you heard the tale of how Enyo fucked herself and gave birth to a sniveling little forest sprite? It's a good one. It starts off something like ‘Enyo saw the children Ruyaa had made for herself and longed to be just like the other Goddess…’”
Tristan laughed delightedly at the expression on Enyo’s face. The Goddess was practically boiling. She would think that this was a story passed down about her for generations of humans—something to laugh about on long winter nights.
How else was a simple human like Tristan to have gotten the information?
❂
Enyo gasped in horror. How had he heard of Pwll?! Her grip tightened on Tristan’s arm with a snarl, hoping that breaking it would distract him from telling the rest of the wretched tale! How was she to know that spawning with herself would create a creature effectively akin to a forest or a glen? Pwll’s only happiness was drinking from streams, basking in morning sunlight, and avoiding all chaos. All conflict.
Pwll had no interest in ruling over the insignificant humans.
Even Ruyaa’s children had inspired and created.
Pwll just sniffed flowers and danced with willows.
She hadn’t seen the wretched child in eons! How could that one shameful event be thrown in her face now?!
Tristan snatched his arm out of Enyo’s grasp and danced away even as Etienne snorted with laughter. “So Enyo went and found a nice soft meadow and fucked herself for a night and a day.”
“Not like you have that type of stamina, you mewling idiot!” She lunged for him, teeth bared.
Tristan leaped away, a grin halving his face. “When she gave birth moons later, she was so proud! Her babe was corporeal, a feat even Ruyaa hadn’t managed.”
Skies above, Enyo’s cheeks were burning with embarrassment and rage. She had asked Ruyaa, years later, where she had gone wrong. Ruyaa had said her pregnancies, her creations were not from physical acts, but thoughts.
By being so literal, Enyo had created a living being composed entirely of her own essence.
The wild heart of the land.
She hadn’t told anyone that little detail! To think, a Goddess like herself could botch the attempt so dismally. As soon as Pwll could walk and talk, weaned off of her teat and needing her no longer, Enyo had set them free. But not before the other Gods had seen, and known, the gentle nature of her self exploration.
The rogue chortled, his eyes on Enyo’s face. “Only when Enyo looked closer, she found that her little babe was a doe-eyed creature of bark and grass that cared less for the Goddess than frolicking through streams and forest glades.”
Her fists were opening and closing, imagining her grip to be about Tristan’s throat. Fire-bright eyes flickered to Etienne, the fool, who was smiling and chuckling at her expense. To Delyth, whose lips were nearly upturned in a smirk.
She even felt Alphonse, deep down, crooning at the image. Thinking it sweet and darling. A nice thing that Enyo had done.
Enyo was not some sniveling mortal coddler like Esha.
No.
Her wrath directed itself skyward, the moaning of the overburdened mountains catching her interest. So heavy with snow. So tired. So very tired.
She would alleviate those peaks and have her vengeance too.
“You think yourself clever, regaling your little mortal friends with this tale?” she growled, lifting her chin to stare each and every one of them down, despite her inferior height. It didn’t matter; within this weak, trembling body was a Goddess of earthquakes and smoldering flame. She would not be laughed at.
“I suppose that laughter will keep you warm at night, for I most certainly won’t!”
With a fierce stomp of her foot, she pointed towards the mountain tips above them. Nothing happened immediately, but Enyo didn’t blink or waver.
Slowly, the winds picked up, the temperature dropped, clouds rolled in from some unknown destination. Surely, it had been a bright and clear day before?
Alphonse shivered and looked around. Enyo was gone.
But the swirling cauldron of clouds overhead seemed omen enough for what the Goddess had done.
༄
Delyth’s eyes were fixated on the roiling mass of approaching weather, the sudden drop in temperature. She had never before seen a storm move so quickly.
Behind her, Etienne had rounded on Tristan. “Now look what you’ve done!”
“What I’ve done?” he snarled back. “You laughed too! It’s just as much your fault as mine. Just like everything else is.”
Delyth ignored them. She knew those clouds.
She knew what was coming.
“Stop!” Her voice was ice. “We need to find shelter now. I’ll go. You all pull on every fur you have.”
Alphonse shuddered, worry evident on her features. “But, Delyth…”
For once, Delyth broke her own rules about showing emotion in front of the others. She stepped towards Alphonse and laid the palm of her hand gently against the smaller woman’s cheek. “Wait here, little bird, and I will find you.”
With a shake of her wings, the warrior leaped into the air, keeping low over the trees. The wind ripped at her clothes and braids, but she had fought it before, high in the storm-torn sky where it ruled. At the height of the trees, it was not yet bad enough to stop her.
Even if it were, she would find a way. They had to have shelter or the blizzard would kill them more easily than any sword.
❀
Alphonse watched Delyth’s form shrink and disappear. With a mournful shake of her head, she turned to look at her two male companions. They were like fighting cats. Which was no use to her at all. They needed to keep trudging forward. To find shelter.
But first, Alphonse knelt at the pack Delyth had dropped; it was hers, though Delyth carried it when Enyo was in control. Carefully she started to layer on scarves and even her sleeping blankets. With her head firmly wrapped and muffled in an additional shawl, Alphonse turned towards Etienne and Tristan.
She didn’t feel like much of a leader, but…
But she was all that was left.
Squaring her shoulders, Alphonse marched forward. “Let’s go. It doesn’t matter why it happened. It just did, and now we have to survive it.”
“Didn’t Delyth say to wait here?” Etienne asked. “It would be easier for her to find us here.”
Tristan was already shaking his head. “No, I’m with the mouse. Let’s head in the direction she flew in, so we don’t get stuck here when the blizzard hits.”
Alphonse hesitated. Etienne
was right, Delyth had said to stay here but… but if the warrior found a safer place for them, then had to race all the way back to find them, and they’d have to travel on foot to get there…
Surely. making the distance shorter was the wisest option?
For once, the voice within her didn’t speak. Didn’t peep. They really were on their own.
“I…” she sputtered, her confidence faltering.
Tristan slapped a hand to his face in exasperation. “Do you have to question yourself at the slightest sign of disagreement, mouse? Show some Godsdamned spine. You were right.
Let’s move. The mutt’s always managed to find you before.”
Alphonse cast an apologetic look towards Etienne even as she started to walk again. It felt strange to have Tristan supporting her decision, but…
But she didn’t want Delyth out there for too long, flying back needlessly when they could meet her halfway.
“Right,” she mumbled to no one in particular as she started to head up the path once more. The winds overhead were howling something terrible in a language her blood responded to, even if she didn’t understand precisely.
Enyo’s storm was a creation of perfection.
༄
By the time Delyth found a suitable cave, the winds around her were howling Enyo’s vengeance in shrieking voices. It was cold enough that even she felt it, pummeled as she was by the icy currents of air.
The cave was farther away than she liked, but they could still make it before the storm if they hurried. If only she could find the others quickly.
Delyth took a deep breath. It would be a waste of time to look when she had a compass of sorts to show her the way. Stilling herself as much as possible, Delyth took hold of Calamity’s hilt and banked into the direction it sent her.
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