Birth of a Mortal God

by Armand Viljoen

  “I don’t know, you seem . . . sad.”

  Though it could have been easily mistaken, she was sure she saw a slight smile on his face for a brief moment before he leaned his head back again. “I suppose they are somewhat true.”

  “What?”

  “The rumours. They’re somewhat true.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I do only take rare magical items as payment, but it wasn’t always so. I also no longer initiate contracts. Potential clients now contact me through . . . the appropriate channels. If they could be bloody bothered,” the bitterness in the last statement did not go unnoticed. “Though I still choose whether or not a contract is worth my time, of course.”

  Jessica nervously clasped her hands together; she knew she was about to press her luck. “About your contracts, um . . . is it true that you would do any task? I mean, some stories say you’ve butchered entire families without batting an eye. While others tell of how you saved towns and rescued children from death. I’m sorry I asked, of course you wouldn’t—”

  He didn’t look at her. “It is all true. Whether it’s a man, woman, or child, if it is my contract to kill them, I would, without hesitation, without mercy.”

  She covered her mouth in horror. “Why?”

  He reached for the ceiling, staring at his hands. “How many lives do you think these hands have taken? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands? These hands of mine are stained with the blood of beings you didn’t even know existed. I have been called a monster, a demon . . . I have been called unnecessary. Why you ask? Because I want to live! I will never be confined. I will never surrender! They will never have the satisfaction of seeing me disappear!”

  Killmar felt pressure against his chest and looked down; she was embracing him, a few rogue tears rolling down her cheeks. “Wha-”

  “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely.

  It was there again, the same strange sensation he had felt when he had seen her unconscious amidst the flames consuming the Running Bastard. However, it felt more overwhelming this time. He could feel his skin grow warmer, and his heart thundered in his chest. It was odd and yet somehow likeable.

  “I’m sorry. My constant pestering has made you remember something terrible. I know how that feels,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

  It felt strange. He had an ache in his stomach, a need to hold her. It was not out of lust, but something different. He wanted to . . . comfort her. He humoured the impulse and wrapped his arms around her petite body.

  “I swear no matter what happens, I’ll never call you a monster or a demon. You are not unnecessary. I need you,” she said softly.

  “Jessica, I—” Then her lips met his. Their kiss was long and passionate, lightly laced with the salt of her tears. He wiped away the remaining moisture from her cheeks. “You are indeed something unique.” She lowered her eyes in a modest manner that he would have thought impossible for a slave girl.

  Jessica took a moment to gather her courage before lifting her gaze. “Killmar, I think I am in—”

  A knock on the door interrupted her, and he moved to open it.

  “Of all the times,” she whispered to herself.

  He properly hid his features again then opened the door. The innkeeper and a page stood equally nervous in front of their room. The boy held the wooden box containing her new clothing tightly to his chest, as if his very life depended on its safe return.

  Killmar silently regarded the pair a moment. “Yes?”

  Rivulets of sweat flowed down the innkeeper’s face. “I beg your pardon, sir, you seemed to have left your luggage downstairs. I hope the contents are not damaged.”

  “I am sure its fine,” he said as the page carefully handed him the small chest.

  The innkeeper forced a smile, though it was clear that he was about to wet himself. “I am relieved to hear that. I would also like to take this opportunity to apologise for my utter rudeness earlier. I have soiled my inn with my behaviour and would like to ask for your forgiveness.”

  “It is good to see you have come to your senses. Be at ease, master innkeeper. You have my pardon.”

  Relief seemed to wash over the man as if someone had taken a blade from his throat. “You are most gracious. Is there anything else I could help you with?”

  “Yes, please try to keep our little disagreement as quiet as possible. As a businessman, I am sure you understand.”

  The innkeeper made a slight bow. “Of course.”

  “Also, I would like you to ready the bath.”

  “Immediately,” said the innkeeper before motioning to the page, the boy nodded and ran off.

  “Anything else?”

  “No, that will be all,” said Killmar before closing the door.

  A few pages arrived minutes later and quickly filled the bath with steaming water. They lit incense and put red shutters over the hekishoku-reikon peepholes. After they made a few inquires about the water’s temperature, they dismissed themselves.

  Killmar started to undress as the last of them left. “I suggest you join me. We wouldn’t want to soil the kind innkeeper’s silk sheets with our filthy bodies now, would we?”

  She smiled and turned as he pulled down his loincloth. “All right, but only if you promise you won’t look until I am in the water.”

  He headed to bathtub. “Jessica, all things—”

  “Are born naked; I know, I know. But not everyone is as indifferent to exposing themselves as you are,” she said as she began unbuttoning the dirty black tunic.

  He slowly submerged his body into the murky white water laced with herbs and bath salts. “I’ll try my best.”

  She pulled down the trousers and quickly tiptoed to the bathtub.

  He felt the water ripple against his chest as her foot broke its surface, and opened his eyes. Her body was bathed in red light, every curve outlined with light shadow. It was a short-lived visage of beauty as she dropped into the water when she caught his gaze.

  He regarded the waves breaking onto the floor and sighed. “Now the pages will have to return to clean this up.”

  Her head emerged from the water a moment later. “You promised you wouldn’t look!”

  He smiled deviously. “I said I would do my best, which I did. It seems the promise of your luscious frame is too much of a temptation for me to resist.”

  She looked down. “Really?”

  He found himself caught off guard by her unusual reply. He had expected her to blush and let the matter rest.

  She moved in closer, slightly exposing her full breasts. “Is that really true?”

  Her breasts pressed against his chest. “Well . . . I . . . I mean . . .”

  She folded her arms around his neck, hiding her face between her right arm and his neck. “You’re so hard to read. I never know when you are teasing and when you are serious.”

  He calmed himself and thought about his reaction to her sudden change in behaviour and let out a little chuckle. “I definitely find you intriguing and unique.”

  She pulled back enough to look into his eyes. “What do you think of me as a woman?”

  He couldn’t suppress the urge to grin. Despite the red light, he could tell her face shone a healthy crimson. Still prone to embarrassment, I see, he thought to himself.

  Jessica felt her courage wane under his golden gaze and turned her head aside.

  He leaned into her and whispered in her ear, “I find you to be the most alluring woman I have ever encountered,” lightly kissing her on the cheek as he pulled away.

  She smiled and nestled herself in next to him. “Could you see me as your lover?”

  He placed his hand on her head. “What are you talking about? Aren’t you my loyal wife who has been travelling with me?”

  She caught his hand before he could recover it and guided it down her body. “I long for your touch.”

  There was excitement, pleasure, and lust in the tremors that ran through her flesh, but also some
fear. He abruptly stopped his hand’s progress. “That may or may not be true, but it seems you are not ready to receive my touch.”

  Confused, she said, “I don’t understand.”

  He gave her a fleeting kiss before getting out of the bath. “You will, when you discover the meaning of my words,” he said as he walked towards the bed to turn in for the night.

  Jessica stirred as rays of sunlight moved across her face. Slowly she opened her eyes, her mind still cloudy as she turned to the vacant left side of the bed. She sat up, covering her nudity with the bedspread. She had slept in the nude in an attempt to lure Killmar, but she should have known better. He sat at the finely crafted desk, a small hekishoku-reikon contraption compensating for the weak morning light.

  “What are you doing?” she asked sleepily.

  “Making preparations should we be forced to suddenly take our leave of Larin. I also need to find out why someone knew more than he should have,” he said as he dipped the quill into the inkwell.

  She knew better than to inquire any further; if he had wanted her to know, he would have elaborated.

  After a while, he put down his quill and lifted the parchment as he reviewed what he had written, then he nodded approvingly and turned to her. “I have requested food be brought up, so I suggest you get dressed. Although I am sure the pages would greatly appreciate your current attire.”

  The sentence had barely been uttered when a knock on the door heralded their arrival.

  She pulled the covers to her chin. “Killmar, I—”

  “Don’t worry; I am just teasing. I’ll tell them to give you a moment to get dressed,” he said before heading towards the door.

  She heard him talking to someone with a boyish voice as she frantically got dressed in one of her newly bought outfits.

  He had scarcely finished explaining they needed more time when she appeared next to him, panting.

  Killmar took a moment to regard her in one of her new outfits. He saw what the weaver had meant by adventurer clothing. Dark red cloth tightly hugged her body with thick brown leather patches on her chest, forearmsh and the forefront of her thighs. Unlike clothes normally worn by women, this was suited for combat. It gave both manoeuvrability and some protection.

  “It seems I was mistaken, and my lady has been ready all along,” said Killmar, winking at the boy.

  The page grinned broadly as he led six of his fellows inside. The table was set and ready in less than two minutes, though he was sure that not all of the guests received such extravagant treatment. The pages eagerly lined-up against the wall, ready to meet any of their needs. But he dismissed them to their disappointment. It was obvious that his stay at the inn was not treated as secretly as promised, for the pages all regarded him with boyish fascination.

  Jessica chuckled as he closed the door with a sigh. “They really admire you.”

  He sat down heavily. “They admire Killmar the Blue Rose, not me. I wish I could find whomever is responsible for that stupid title. However intentional or unintentional, it breathed life into the rumour that I have blue hair. Thanks to that, I now have to wear a damned robe wherever I go,” he said, tugging at his robe for emphasis.

  “I guess there really is a down side to everything, although there is also a bright side,” said Jessica as she brushed back a few stray locks behind her pert ear.

  “Oh? Enlighten me, please, for I do not see it.”

  She indicated the various fruits, meats, and breads in front of them. “You are treated extravagantly as a guest.”

  “The benefits hardly offset the disadvantages.”

  They talked about various trivial things over dinner, but Jessica had slowly and steadily steered the topics towards what she wanted. “So it is true then that you rescued the Eranian Princess and brokered a peace between the Empire and the Tohuran Collective?”

  He stopped eating and smirked. “So this was your goal? You did a commendable job manipulating our conversation. I suppose you were taught some speech craft as a girl? You do, however, seem to possess a fair amount of natural talent.”

  Jessica felt like a child caught in the kitchen pantry. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean, uh, I mean I did, but. . .”

  He waved away the apology. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Skills need to be used; otherwise, they grow dull. And words have sent more mortals to an early grave than any weapon. You should cultivate it; but just be weary of whom you choose as a subject. Very few people will be as gracious as I when they realise they are being led by the nose.”

  She just nodded and again felt like a student.

  He cut into a juicy piece of lamb before saying, “But to answer your question, that particular rumour is true. I did save Hinamori, but I suspect you all ready deduced as much. So you must have wanted to use it as a link to your following question in order to make it seem less suspicious. So what is it that you wanted to know so badly that you would direct most of our conversation just to obtain it?”

  “Don’t you already know? You always seem to know what I am thinking,” she pouted.

  “Well, I can speculate, but I would rather hear it from you.”

  She absentmindedly pushed around some cooked carrots with her fork. “Well, they say that the Princess is in love with you, and even asked for your hand in marriage. But you just ignored the offer and left after you received the Bag of Zanoul.”

  He stared into her eyes. “What about it?”

  “Is it true?”

  “Yes it is true, but what kind of man accepts the marriage proposal of an eight-year-old? Even if she is an ewien.”

  Jessica dropped her fork. “Eight?! I heard the Princess turned eighteen this year.”

  “She did,” he said as he put a buttered piece of bread in his mouth.

  “That would mean you saved her ten years ago,” she said, sceptical.

  “Yes, and?” he said, trying a few of the fresh peach slices.

  “But you appear at the most twenty-five years of age.”

  He added the last of the food to his plate, a few slices of pickled ham. “Looks can be deceiving, Jessica.”

  “Just how old are you exactly?”

  He smiled. “Old enough to know not to answer that question.”

  She knew when to press a question with him and when not to, and this case was the latter. “I am sure you’ll tell me when you think I am ready.”

  He looked up from his plate and seemed to regard her with affection. “You really are unique.”

  She basked under his warm gaze, the edge of her mouth slightly curled as she stared into his enticing eyes. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss when his attention returned to his plate. Then she noticed that all the food on the table was gone reminding her of one of her theories. “I think I know how you always seem to let things appear and disappear, the travel furs for example.”

  He took his last bite and folded his arms, amused. “Let’s hear it, my investigative companion.”

  “You use the Bag of Zanoul, don’t you? It is said that an old wizard named Zanoul got tired of always hiring a wagon to transport his books whenever he travelled, so he created a magical bottomless bag that could hold his entire archive. However, to protect its secret, it appears as nothing more than an empty pouch. That’s why you always ask me to roll the furs into separate bundles; it was created to store books, and they are generally not very big. Its mouth is probably small, and the furs would not fit otherwise,” she said quite proud of her deduction.

  He tried to mask his mirth but failed.

  “Am I wrong?” she asked now slightly embarrassed.

  “No, it is just so adorable the pride you take in something so small.”

  She pouted. “Must you always tease me?”

  He muffled a chuckle. “I am sorry, Jessica. I—” then he fell silent.

  It took her a moment to realise that it was the first time he had ever apologised to her, and by his reaction, she knew it had more meaning behind it than it would have
normally. He stood up and walked over to the desk and took the letters he had written. Without a word, he sealed them with wax. She didn’t quite understand what was happening, but she knew what she had to do.

  She embraced him from behind as he looked out the window by the desk. “I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t hear anything.”

  Killmar wondered when she had come to understand him so well, and stood a moment longer in her embrace, before turning around and running his hands through her raven hair. “You really are unique.”

  A knock on the door interrupted the moment, and Jessica found herself cursing the timing.

  “Enter,” instructed Killmar.

  A page did so nervously. “Sir, someone left you this letter downstairs,” he said indicating the black envelope in his hand.

  “How do you know it is meant for me?” asked Killmar.

  The boy looked uncertain whether he should answer.

  “Well?”

  “The messenger said it is for the inn wrecker.”

  Clearly expecting an outburst of anger, the boy flinched when he took the envelope from him.

  “Anything else?” he asked as the boy tried to spy under his hood.

  “No, sir,” answered the page before making a quick bow and leaving.

  “I wonder who it is from,” said Jessica.

  Killmar broke the red wax seal. “I have a good idea.” Grinning as he read the letter, he said, “It seems they are making my job easier, or rather they just want me to get on with it.”

  Jessica peeked over his shoulder and read it outloud. “He is at the market square. Who? There aren’t even any initials.”

  “Because it is unnecessary. I have to run a quick errand,” he said before burning the letter, taking care to keep her from seeing how. He quickly handed her five gold coins before she could ask any questions. “Go and enjoy yourself. It is your first time in Larin after all.”

  Her eyes widened at the amount of money. “This is a small fortune!”

  “Whether you spend or save it is up to you. Oh, just make sure you are back by nightfall.” He was out the door before she could reply.

  THE MARKET SQUARE was primarily used by those who buy or sell their wares in bulk. As such, the streets were commonly cluttered by heavy wagons. Only during the early mornings could one traverse it on foot without fear of being trampled.