It wasn’t until Furore looked up at Fate that she saw the goddess pulling at golden and silver threads which appeared midair. She weaved something new, for the inhabitants of Lho Allanar, out of the old.
“Wha… What are you doing?”
“I need to make it whole,” Fate muttered but her concentration was on the light in the glass ball. Hope did not possess the power to swallow Lho Allanar. Fate used her as a vessel.
“You do?” Furore wondered if she had to slay another goddess with Grinja. It would be a pity. She enjoyed Fate, particularly when she sat in her lap.
“I…” Fate smiled, nodded. “I’ve been sick. I understand now, my melancholia infected your creation. But you loved me, dear, and so I’ll repay your kindness. Gods don’t love other gods.”
“They don’t?”
“We’ll make an exception.” Fate bit her lip, shot her a lustful wink, and tugged on an emerald string. “After I mend the flaws in your city, we should try for a demigod. Perfection isn’t possible for a lone goddess. Regardless of how hot she is.”
“Um…” Furore looked into the glass ball. Fate struck her as too intense to behold. “A demigod? How do you create those?”
“How indeed.” Fate giggled.
Torn
Venviel tried to slip her restraints by dislodging her thumbs, but neither the ropes nor her thumbs budged. She found herself lost in a landscape of searing white. She might have gone blind, because of Hope’s magic, or she might have perished.
If she’d died, she was disappointed that Hope wasn’t with her. Maybe they found themselves in wholly different realms after death. They might be separated forever. She didn’t want that. If anything, she longed to achieve immortality with Hope. Her love.
She kicked at the ground and stirred up a cloud of pink leaves. They fell around her, carried by gusts which tugged at her clothes, and freed her restraints. The white landscape gave way and revealed the earth. The pink leaves covered everything beneath her feet.
She trudged through piles of leaves, tired, and wished she’d discover Hope somewhere. Without her, she’d be lost again. She’d give in to doubt and fear and mistrust. With her, she could become someone great. She could be the hero some thought of her as.
Eventually, she spotted two figures through the white landscape, through the mist. They both waved at her to turn around, go back, and leave them in peace. She stopped in her tracks. Did they seem strangely familiar, or was it her imagination?
When it occurred to her who they were, Venviel walked faster. No, she ran. If she’d died, at least she wouldn’t be alone. Thalia and Corym became clearer and clearer through the mist, until she couldn’t possibly mistake them for anyone else. Her mother and father stood a short distance ahead, yet they backed away and shook their heads, as if they didn’t want her.
“Wait!” She called out to them. “Wait for me!”
“Don’t chase us, Venviel!” Thalia shouted while cupping her hands around her mouth. “You might lose out on precious time.”
“How?”
Corym twirled his finger and gestured for her to spin around. Venviel glanced back over her shoulder, and Hope stood there, in the field of leaves, with a grim expression. If they’d all been reunited, she didn’t understand her mother’s warning. They could leave Lho Allanar to the ages. Why bother with a city that despised them?
“Hope, come, let’s go,” Venviel said and offered her hand, but Hope didn’t move.
“I believe the goddess is giving you a choice,” Corym said. “Not a nice choice, or a choice I envy you, but well, a choice.”
“A choice?” She faced her parents and realized what her father meant when they began to disappear into the mist again. “No… No. Not this. I can’t possibly choose… Please, don’t do this to me. I can’t choose…”
“We know!” Thalia shouted. “We’re making the choice for you, so stop being stubborn, Venviel.”
“Live your life!” Corym smiled. “There’ll be time. We’ll see each other again, one day, thousands of years from now, but live your life. Don’t take that pleasure away from your wise old father, and your crone of a mother.”
“Quiet you.” Thalia rolled her eyes. “We’ll miss you, Venviel, but we’re glad to see we left you in the best of hands.”
Her mother and father shot each other knowing looks. Venviel hadn’t cried for them in a long time, but watching them argue and then reconcile brought her loss to the surface. Tears threatened to erupt and never cease, if she listened to their advice.
How could she choose to leave them again? She’d already failed to save their lives, five years ago, and now they pretended like they didn’t want her help. The goddess was cruel beyond belief if she thought this was a suitable choice for her to make.
She took a step towards her parents, her heart stood still. Thalia and Corym shooed her away. They did everything in their power to make the choice for her, and lessen the burden she would carry, but she’d always blame herself. She could have done more for them. They must know it too.
Venviel raised her hand in a half-hearted wave, almost tripped over her own feet as she turned, and ran to Hope. She sought solace in Hope’s broken arms, tackled her in a desperate hug, and stained her true love’s skin with a river of tears.
“Don’t leave me, don’t. Please, don’t even think about it. I need you so bad. I won’t survive losing you too.” Venviel found it difficult to breathe through the stone in her throat. “I am sorry for thinking of getting revenge on you. You’re a blessing. You’re my goddess. There is nothing more precious to me than your heart. I won’t break it. I swear I won’t.”
Hope patted her on the back, ran her nails across her shoulder blades. “It’s fine if you do. I gave you permission.”
Horizon
Lho Allanar changed after Hope expended the power she’d stored over the years she’d been unaware of her demonic origin. The city attained an eerie red glow, as if the sun promised to envelop everyone who didn’t behave in its fiery light and burn them alive.
If anyone asked, she couldn’t explain how she’d escaped the dungeon. One moment she’d had her arm bashed to pieces, the next she’d found herself embraced on a beach by Venviel who’d mumbled about her parents and professed undying love.
Her arm had still been broken, shattered, but she’d been free. For the first time in what might have been weeks, she’d seen the sky. She’d made love to Venviel among the waves of the ocean, and pretended like her broken bones didn’t hurt in the slightest.
Faraine and Vaeri stopped pursuing them, joined forces, and worked to unite the temple under new leadership. Whatever the city had experienced while she’d blacked out had scared its inhabitants, left permanent marks, and would not soon be forgotten.
Rumours spread that the goddess had reminded the priestesses of their mortality and subservience. In turn, many wealthy elves donated enormous amounts of gold and food to shrines and begged for forgiveness in the streets.
Hope prayed Lho Allanar would truly change for the better, since it appeared so for the first time in her life, but she had her doubts. Nothing changed miraculously overnight. Divine influence might inspire tremendous upheaval, but elves were stubborn. They had time on their side. They might forget their lesson.
“Hope?” Venviel encouraged their stolen brown horses to slow down and turned to look at her in the back of the wagon.
“What?” Hope flipped the page of one the few books they’d brought with them. They’d packed dried meat, vegetables, and supplies to last weeks in the wilderness. Her arm had begun to heal since Venviel had wrapped it in cloth and crafted a sling for her.
“Would you want to have a child with me?”
Hope coughed and raised the book in front of her face to hide. “Please don’t tell me you need me to explain how children are made.”
“I don’t.” Venviel refocused her attention on the road. “Furore offered to help. Mentioned something about an experiment. Maybe it�
�s not relevant, right now, but if we return to Lho Allanar, would you want to?”
“I…” Hope blushed. “Absolutely, Venviel. The goddess of love would want us to procreate, if at all possible, and I know you’re eager to raise children as followers of her religion.”
“Never!”
“What!” Hope hugged the book in her lap. “Do we not share the same beliefs? Have you tricked me into loving you?”
“No idea why you’d do it otherwise.”
“Because you’re a wonderful woman, and my hero.” Hope started to read again, then she realized she’d not given a serious answer. “I would bear your children, Venviel. You shouldn’t have to ask.”
“That’s…” Venviel brought the wagon to a halt in the middle of a field.
Waves crashed against sandy cliffs, seagulls squawked in the sky. When Hope turned her head, she could see the palace of Lho Allanar in the distance. Its spires peeked over the horizon, reminded her of worse days, and wavered in the city’s new glow.
She’d not wanted to leave her home, not really, but it would be for the best if they laid low for a while. Hope had no idea how long she would live, but Venviel was a young elf. She had centuries ahead of her. Hope prayed she’d live as long as her, but she shouldn’t take time for granted. It might escape her if she did.
If they couldn’t return to Lho Allanar, they ought to do their best to create a new town on this very field. Merchants often traveled the road between Xenthien and Lho Allanar. They weren’t alone in wilds they couldn’t survive. No, it’d make sense for people to thrive here, on the coast, between a city state and a country.
“I’d like to name a tavern after Thalia and Corym.” Venviel climbed off the wagon, inhaled the salty air, and stretched her limbs.
“What would you call it?” Hope was too comfortable to rise from her seat, but her arm hadn’t healed yet, so Venviel would forgive her for being lazy. “The Amicier’s…?”
“The Traders’ Sanctuary.”
“Fitting, but I think you ought to include your family name.”
“I figured it would be disrespectful towards you, if we’re going to own it together.”
“Oh…” Hope shrugged. “I guess you may as well start calling me Hope Amicier then, since I don’t have a family name.”
“I should, shouldn’t I?” Venviel walked around the wagon, threw her arms around Hope, and pressed her wet lips against her cheek. “Would you marry me?”
“I see.” Hope faked a frown, even as her heart raced. “You planned to get me pregnant with your children, with the goddess’ help, and marry someone else. Can’t marry below your status, can you, Miss Amicier?”
“When you say yes, Hope, you won’t be able to call me Miss Amicier anymore.” Venviel slid a hand into her blouse.
“Why’s that?” Hope craned her neck to give Venviel full access. She shivered as the elf pinched her skin and laid her other hand under her chin.
“It won’t be true. I’ll be Madam Amicier, or Lady Amicier.”
“What will I be?”
“Anything you want, anything I can realize.” Venviel kissed her upside down. “Mine, more. I’ll give you the world.”
“Yes.” Hope said, and a weight she didn’t know she’d carried lifted from her shoulders. “Yes.”
The Amiciers’ Rest
Venviel had assumed they’d return to Lho Allanar, sooner or later, and the tavern had sort of been a joke to persuade Hope to stay by her side in the wild. She’d wished to honour her parents, sure, but what had she known about running a tavern? Not a whole lot. She’d barely paid attention when Thalia or Corym had tried to teach her about the emporium.
So, in the end, everything about Caelora had come as a pleasant surprise, like dew on the first morning of spring.
Over the last hundred years, they’d transitioned from building and running a tavern by the ocean to welcoming more and more elves from Lho Allanar into their community of outsiders. Someone had dubbed their small village Caelora, at some point, and it had caught on. They’d changed the name of their tavern a couple of times as well, as they’d expanded, but finally settled on The Amiciers’ Rest.
“I win!” Gale kicked Hymn’s leg out from under her and performed a happy little dance on the spot. Waves crashed around them. The wind picked up and tore at their fine, beige shirts. They looked like forest spirits drawn by a master painter in the most unorthodox location. A beach.
“Not fair!” Hymn turned her head away from her twin as she kicked sand everywhere. “She cheated again, mother, as soon as you stopped looking.”
“You can’t expect your opponent to always fight fair,” Venviel said. “You may have to choose between fighting fair and winning.”
“And the instructor not being very observant.” Gale smacked her sister’s leg with her wooden sword.
“Ouch…” Hymn crawled over to Venviel, got back up on her feet, and sought shelter behind her.
Gale giggled and strode after her sister with confident steps.
Venviel drew her rapier and pointed it at her daughter to dissuade her from attacking her twin again. “Enough, Gale. You’ve had your fun. You either accept victory with some semblance of respect for your opponent, or you’ll fight me.”
“How much longer do you think you’ll best me, oldie?”
“Oldie…?” Venviel squinted. “I’m not even two-hundred.”
“So old.” Hymn agreed with her twin.
Venviel stepped aside, gestured for Gale to continue what she’d been doing, and sheathed her rapier again as Hymn screamed and fled towards the path leading up to Caelora on top of the cliffs. Gale gave chase.
The twins may look strange with their half-elven, half demon heritage, but no one could deny that they were striking. They’d inherited traits from both her and Hope. They had longer, pointier ears than Hope, a single tail each, bright green bodies, and eyes which laid somewhere between an elf’s and a demon’s. At times, Venviel could see their irises underneath a thin cyan layer.
She made sure her daughters hadn’t forgotten anything on the beach, then she followed them up the path. She could hear them arguing, screaming, and laughing above her as the path turned, but she soon lost sight of them.
Venviel didn’t see them again until she entered The Amiciers’ Rest on top of the cliff. The grand interior of the tavern had started out modest, but over the decades, they’d expanded and expanded until they had twenty large tables for guests, wide paintings on the walls, and about thirty bedrooms of varying sizes. Their largest bedroom was almost the same size as the dining hall.
Hope wiped the counter while Art, their only and youngest son, held onto his mother’s apron and followed her around while sucking on his dark green thumb.
Venviel hadn’t aged a day compared to Hope. She often fretted over her wife’s wrinkles, especially those around her pretty eyes, but Hope only laughed her worries off and swore stress had created them, not age. Venviel didn’t know if it was true or not. Hope didn’t act older, she retained plenty of energy.
She’d made an attempt at getting an answer out of Furore, begged on her knees, but the goddess didn’t visit anymore. Not after she’d given Venviel and Hope the ability to procreate. Furore had never cared. She only needed her followers to worship the ground she walked on.
“Could you finish preparing breakfast in the kitchen, Hymn?” Hope asked the daughter who might obey. “Our guests will come down soon, and I want everything ready.”
“Yes, mother.” Hymn stroked her bruised elbow, glared at Gale, and stuck her tongue out. “I’m the only woman fit to inherit this place.”
Gale snorted. “I wouldn’t—“
“Don’t underestimate your brother.” Hope interrupted Gale and patted Art on his bald head. His horns hadn’t grown out yet, and maybe they never would. Hymn didn’t have them. Gale’s thick horns curled back over her head and reminded Venviel of a majestic mountain goat. They were larger than Hope’s.
“A
rt will contribute a great deal in his time,” Venviel chimed in, shut the door behind her, and grabbed a broom. “You could always train him early, Hymn, if you wish to have an assistant.”
Hymn offered her hand to Art, as she disappeared into the kitchen. He hesitated before he let go off Hope’s apron to go with his sister, still sucking on his thumb.
“They’re great.” Hope smiled at Venviel.
“Aren’t they?”
“Yeah! Well!” Gale kicked a chair out from under a table, leapt onto it, and balanced it on two legs by putting one foot on its back and one on the seat. “If you only see their value, you don’t need me to entertain your guests ever again, do you? I’ll abscond with the next band of smugglers, become a pirate. I’ll achieve such renown that it makes you regret every unkind word and sentiment. You’ll see! Orchid Brave? More like Orchid… Knave!”
Venviel groaned. She shouldn’t have told her daughters about her past, not even as a bedtime story. In her defense, she’d thought they’d forget about it. Hymn seemed to have, yet she’d often caught Gale grinning at her when she thought she wasn’t looking, like she saw a valiant hero in her mother.
“It’s good to have dreams.” Hope grabbed Gale’s lute from under the counter, walked up to her daughter, and offered her the instrument with a patient smile. “But until you become a pirate, you have to earn your keep. If you can play for an hour while balancing on the chair like that, I’ll pay you extra. Double.”
“Of course I can.” Gale took the lute and strummed a catchy, upbeat tune. “Watch me, mother. You’ll lose this bet. Mark my words.”
“Consider them marked.” Hope strode up to Venviel with a suggestive grin, swayed her hips, and battered her eyelashes.
“What?” Venviel swept the floor. She would have lifted Hope onto one of the tables, taken her in the middle of the tavern, if they’d been alone. She’d done it during late nights, when their daughters had gone to sleep early, when Hope had approached her in a similar manner.
Never Enough Page 13
