Hour of Mischief

by Aimee Hyndman

  “Okay, so not Kova,” I said.

  “Then there’s Axira,” Laetatia said. “And given the fact she may or may not want to kill you–”

  “Not a great idea.” I nodded. “Others?”

  “The other two are Kalite, and the wisdom twins, Viden and Kaval,” Itazura said. “Kalite’s probably the most uninvolved of that group, but she has a really nice temperament. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her angry.”

  “Oh I have,” Laetatia said. “You remember that time when Meroquio–”

  “Oh,” Itazura chuckled. “Yes. But still, one incident in a couple thousand years? I’d say that’s a pretty good track record.”

  “Wait, what happened with Meroquio?” I asked.

  “Long story.” Laetatia brushed my question away, though honestly I really did want to hear this story. Anything that involved someone getting mad at Meroquio sounded awesome. “Kalite is probably your best bet.”

  “Why not the wisdom twins?” I asked.

  “Well, since they know everything,” Itazura reasoned, “it’s hard to get on their good side. They see through every act. You can’t win their respect with a drinking competition or your flirtation–”

  “I can’t win anyone with my flirtation,” I pointed out.

  “Well Meroquio made you an offer,” Laetatia said. “You just rejected it. I highly respect that by the way.”

  “Thanks,” I said, though I hadn’t stopped beating myself up about the whole incident.

  “Anyway,” Itazura said. “The point is the only way you win favor with the wisdom twins is through your intellect. And you mentioned you never received an education. We might run into a road block with that one.”

  “Of course, on the other hand, if you managed to get the wisdom twins on our side we’d have a huge advantage,” Laetatia mused.

  “She’s not going to get them on her side,” Itazura said.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said sourly.

  Itazura sighed and looked at me. “It’s nothing against you, little human. It’s just that if we take a gamble with the wisdom twins, it could end up damning this whole plan up. If they disagree with what I’m doing, they would tell Mother and Father immediately.”

  “Good point. Probably too much of a risk.” Laetatia nodded at Itazura. “If I could sniff you out, they’d discover your entire plan the moment the human opens her mouth.”

  “Or before,” Itazura added.

  “I’m not a bad liar,” I said.

  ‘Oh you’re a fine liar,” Laetatia said. “Viden and Kaval are just the masters of all the knowledge and wisdom in the universe.”

  I exhaled and my head dipped. “Okay, fine. I’ll take my chances with Kalite.”

  “That way, at least if you fail, we can probably convince Kalite to keep the lid on our plan,” Itazura said lightly.

  “You know, for someone who expressed so much confidence in me earlier, you sure are being negative now,” I said.

  “Just keeping you on your toes.” Itazura winked.

  “You could call it that,” Laetatia said, going over to the window and brushing the red curtains aside. “Or you could call it ‘being your annoying self.’”

  “That’s what I call it,” I said.

  “Oh, you like me, little human. Don’t try to hide it,” Itazura said, leaning above me over the arm of the couch.

  “Yeah, right.” I turned my head into the cushions, partially because I was tired, and partially because his close proximity made me uncomfortable.

  “Shit,” Laetatia muttered. And not the kind of “Oh no, I spilled my drink,” shit. This was the “we’re in a deep Abyss of trouble” kind of shit.

  “What?” Itazura and I asked in unison.

  Laetatia looked back at Itazura, “It’s our favorite hellion.”

  Itazura paled. “Damn.”

  “Wait who’s the helli-” But before the words could fully leave my mouth, Itazura scooped me up off the couch and rushed me over to the cabinets under the private bar. Before I knew what was happening he had shoved me inside and closed the doors on me.

  “Hey, Itazura!” I snapped, banging on the door. It wouldn’t give. The stupid god was holding the door closed. “What in the great Abyss are you doing?”

  “Stay under there if you want to live, little human,” Itazura said. “Kova is paying us a visit.”

  I couldn’t help it: my jaw dropped. “K-Kova?”

  “Just stay in there and keep quiet.” Itazura peered at me through the crack in the cabinet. “Oh, and try to stay calm. If you’re too anxious, she’ll be able to smell your blood more easily.”

  “Sorry, what?” I asked.

  “Itazura, get over here,” Laetatia hissed.

  “Right,” Itazura said. “It’ll be fine, Janet.”

  Then he left. I squirmed and wriggled to adjust myself, getting as comfortable as I could. Easier said than done, especially when I was trying to be quiet so the Goddess of War didn’t hear me moving.

  Or . . . smell my blood, since apparently she can do that.

  “There you are,” said a raspy voice that seemed to balance just between masculine and feminine. “Where in the Abyss have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for both of you.”

  “Well, you probably should have started with the bars.” Itazura pointed out. “Seeing as you were looking for Laetatia.”

  “Or the bedrooms if you wanted Meroquio. I’m sure he’s somewhere around here,” Laetatia said.

  “I don’t need Meroquio. I need useful gods.” The raspy-voiced goddess said.

  I leaned forward to peer through the tiny gap between the cabinet doors. Itazura and Laetatia stood side by side, looking rather nervous in the presence of their sister. The war goddess herself stood before them.

  I’d seen paintings of Kova before, but images really didn’t do her justice. Sure, they captured her likeness reasonably well–her blood-red hair, golden-brown skin, and her fitted silver armor and gold cape billowing all the way to her spiked boots–but none of the paintings really captured her presence. She absolutely filled the room with her entire being. Her sharp gaze, her frightening scowl, and her commanding voice seemed to demand worship. It was impossible to take Itazura seriously. I respected Laetatia but it never occurred to me to worship her because she was so friendly with humans.

  But with Kova? If I made a snide comment to her, she would cut me down where I stood with that very large broad sword she had balanced over one shoulder.

  “What’s with the weapon?” Laetatia said. “And why are you even down here?”

  Kova gave a long sigh. “You know, for gods who are so obsessed with humans, you don’t pay much attention to their plights do you?” She flicked her blood-red hair from her eyes. “I know you two are too busy drinking and fooling with humans to notice when something important happens but we are on the verge of a crisis right now. You could stand to pay better attention.”

  “What are you talking about?” Itazura asked. “Someone steal one of your weapons?”

  “No,” Kova said. “Wendigoes. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  Itazura and Laetatia fell silent as if the news had completely stolen the clever retorts from their mouths. An astounding feat, considering Itazura’s propensity for smart remarks. What kind of creatures were wendigoes and why did their presence prompt this reaction from two gods?

  “That’s what I thought.,” Kova said.

  “How many?” Laetatia asked. “Two? Three?”

  Kova pointed one steel-gloved finger to the sky, “Higher. Much higher.”

  “How much is ‘much higher’?” Itazura asked. “We’ve never had an outbreak larger than five since we’ve sealed them.”

  “Nice statistic,” Kova said. “But we have a new record. It’s a whole tribe of them. Twenty-five strong.”

  Laetatia and Itazura inhaled sharply and I resisted the urge to snap, “What the hell is a wendigo” since I didn’t think my sudden emergence fr
om Laetatia’s private bar would go over well with Kova.

  “There’s no way. Twenty-five?” Laetatia asked.

  “Exactly. That’s why I came looking for you two.” Kova shrugged. “Five, I could handle by myself. I could take all of them, really, but it would take too long. My sword can only occupy itself with five heads at a time.”

  “The great Kova, asking for our lowly help?” Itazura said, but his usually light tone was strained.

  “Not the time to make jokes, Itazura.” Laetatia jammed an elbow into his side. “We’re on our way. Where did the tribe get off too?”

  “Well, they just blasted through the western sector of the middle ring,” Kova said. “So somewhere around there. They picked up a hefty meal of souls when they went through the prison. That should slow them down a little bit.”

  My heart stopped. I had to cover my mouth to keep from gasping. The west sector prison . . .

  Where my friends were being held.

  My mind dropped into a panicked fog and my vision went blurry. Time slowed nearly to a stop, just as it had the day I lost my arm. Only my heartbeat sped up, ringing in my ears like a war drum.

  “Three of us should be enough,” Laetatia said. “For one tribe at least. We should hurry.”

  “No need. The hoard isn’t going anywhere. They’re having too much fun.” Kova shrugged.

  “Just because you don’t mind human casualties, that doesn’t mean Itazura and I feel the same way,” Laetatia said.

  “Well maybe you should pay better attention to your precious humans then.” Kova sneered. “Mother and Father aren’t pleased with your negligence.”

  “We’re sacrificing all the humans to the elder gods, so why does it matter?” Itazura retorted.

  “Don’t get smart with me, little brother. I will lob off your head again, if I have to,” Kova said. “Personally, I’m only here because I like the hunt.”

  “Don’t decapitate the one who brings logic to the situation,” Itazura said, though he held up his hands in obvious surrender. “Fine, we’ll indulge your bloodlust and help you. Are we going or what?”

  “We are,” Kova adjusted the broadsword balanced over her shoulder. She gave a dark and honestly terrifying grin. “It’s been a good while since I’ve gotten to battle wendigoes. I kind of miss it.” She turned and strode from the room. “Don’t fall behind.”

  “We’re not,” Laetatia muttered, following after Kova. “And we’re not your minor gods, Kova. Don’t give us orders.”

  Kova said something in retort, probably a death threat of some kind, but at that point, she was too far away for me to hear her. Itazura stopped in the doorway, looking back at my hiding spot. I could see the concern in his gaze. He must have figured it out, too.

  My friends were in the prison attacked by these wendigoes. I didn’t know what these mysterious creatures were capable of, but whatever it was, my friends were in grave danger.

  Or worse, they were already dead.

  Itazura stared at me for a good five seconds but at an irritated command from Kova that I couldn’t make out, he hurried from the room.

  For a while, I just sat in the cabinets, completely forgetting Kova had gone and I could come out. I could only stare at the dark wood of the doors, blank faced. My mind whirled with questions.

  What’s a wendigo? Why are twenty-five of them so bad? Are they like shape shifters? Did they kill everyone in the prison?

  Are Sylvia, Parker, and Sid gone?

  Did I fail again?

  “No. I can’t have failed. They’re going to be fine. I made this damn pact to save them, so I’m going to save them.”

  With this promise burning on my lips, I kicked the cabinet doors open and scrambled out. I touched the button on my left arm just below my wrist and my newly installed blade shot into view.

  Whatever these wendigoes were, I hoped they were vulnerable to the taste of steel.

  Because if one of them so much as touched my friends, I would destroy every last one of them by myself, no gods required.

  ooking back on it, I probably should have considered the possible repercussions of charging into battle with a tribe of creatures I had never seen or heard of before in my life. After all, they were so bad it took three gods to take down one tribe. Not to mention, there was that little issue of me being in a pact with Itazura and if I happened to die, I could cause the end of the world as we knew it.

  That seems to be a trend with my life, actually. Looking back on all the things I should have mulled over before charging in like an impulsive moron. No wonder Itazura didn’t think I could persuade the knowledge twins to come over to our side. I was as logical and contemplative as . . . well, Itazura himself.

  The closer I got to the western half of Fortuna, the more chaotic the streets became. It seemed as if people were trying to run away from something, crawling over each other to escape. They squeezed through alleys and stumbled around abandoned carriages, heedless of anyone but themselves. But the thicker the crowd became, the faster I ran.

  At one point a short, balding man caught my arm and tried to stop me, “You can’t go that way! Strange things are about. Evil things. You must turn back.”

  “Thanks for the concern, but I’m not going anywhere.” I jerked my arm from his grasp and kept on running.

  My lungs were nearly burned out by the time the time I reached the intersection of West Street and Vigil Boulevard, and the landscape had changed immensely as well. Usually this intersection was quite busy, filled with automated carriages, crowds of busy people, and even caravans. This was the only section of the middle sector that allowed the nomads to sell their wares. Now their carts were overturned and their tents collapsed. A thin layer of pocket watches, pendants, and other trinkets littered the cobblestone streets. Many of the goods had been trampled and ruined in the previous commotion.

  The silence scared me the most. The voices of the crowds had long faded from the area and only the faint lull of the crisp wind as it ruffled my hair filled the streets remained. There wasn’t another person in the vicinity.

  I couldn’t help but rest my right hand over the button on my wrist, just for precaution’s sake. When I had regained my breath and my legs no longer felt like jelly, I hurried on, this time at a brisk walk. Shattered pocket watches crunched under my leather boots. The splintering of already shattered glass echoed through the silence, rattling my nerves.

  I walked for two minutes without running across anyone. No guards, no civilians, and no evil creatures. Then, a new sound joined the crunching of my footsteps.

  ‘Ping’

  I stopped and looked around, searching for the source of the sound. I still didn’t see anyone on the streets. Maybe something had fallen over. I took a slow, hesitant step forward.

  ‘Ping.’

  I stopped. No, it wasn’t the sound of something falling. It was the sound of something striking a hollow, metal object. Sort of like the sound a knife made when it bounced off the helmet of a vigilant guard.

  ‘Ping.’

  An annoying sound too. In normal circumstances, it would be easy to ignore but in the crushing silence, my nerves tingled each time the sound echoed through the streets.

  ‘Ping.’

  The noise sounded almost rhythmic in nature, like the slow ticking of a clock. The intervals between “pings” never grew longer or shorter. I counted twelve beats in between each sound. Twelve beats; twelve gods.

  Ping.

  I continued forward, cautiously, keeping my arm out in front of me in case I had to block an attack. I walked, unconsciously, in the exact same rhythm of the noise. I took twelve steps in between each hollow, metallic sound.

  Ping.

  The sound grew louder. Slowly I rounded the corner, praying silently to all of the gods—yes, even Meroquio—that nothing would catch me off guard. If anything so much as moved, I might’ve had a heart attack.

  Ping.

  The sound echoed from my left. I turned, though I almost
didn’t want to, searching for the source.

  Ping.

  I exhaled, annoyed I had been so nervous. It was only a child, a little girl, sitting on the side of the road. She crouched over what looked like the dented helmet of a vigilant guard. Her stringy brown hair fell like a curtain in front of her face, obscuring it from view, but by her dirty, travel worn clothes and sun-tanned skin, I guessed she was a nomad child.

  Ping.

  The girl held a small metal rod in her hand and she appeared to be entertaining herself by striking the helmet in front of her over and over again. Why? Why wasn’t she running like everyone else? Perhaps she was in shock. Her parents must have left her behind in the chaos.

  I took a step forward, but stopped as she struck the helmet again. Now, her beats seemed to be speeding up. She waited only four counts before striking the helmet again.

  Ping.

  Ping.

  Then she waited only two beats.

  Ping.

  Ping.

  One beat.

  Ping.

  Ping.

  Until at last, she didn’t pause at all. She struck the helmet over and over again, as if counting the seconds with the sound.

  Ping, ping, ping, PING.

  The final strike rang loudest and reverberated through the empty streets like a gunshot. Despite the girl’s age, something about the steady noise still set me on edge. I did not take my hand off the button on my arm.

  The girl laid her metal rod aside and I took this as a chance to try to talk with her.

  “Are you lost?” I asked.

  She didn’t reply. She didn’t even look at me. A soft breeze past between us, ruffling her stringy hair in time with mine.

  “It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you,” I said taking a step forward. “My name is Janet. I’m a good person.”

  “Good person.” The girl repeated, though she still did not turn. “You are good? Do you want . . . to play with me?”

  “I think we should get out of here first,” I said, taking another cautious step forward. I didn’t want to advance to quickly or I might upset the girl more.

  “But I want to play.”