Zephyra took a deep breath and readied herself. “Supreme Mother and Supreme Father, protect me!” she cried before deciding to add a few names. “And Death and Life too. It would be good if you could lend me some of your power since I am protecting your daughter.”
And then the time for words was over. The Void Born capable of flight raced upward as those below projected vast tendrils of razor-sharp flesh into the sky. Zephyra dove down to meet them.
Her swords swung into motion, and a piercing wail filled the air as she crafted blades of wind and hurled them at her enemies. The flesh of the Void Born was harder than rock or mortal steel, but her swords had been crafted by divine smiths, and the winds had been sharpened by her power. She could have cut a hill in half. The Void Born at the front were cut to pieces, but there were still so many behind them, and it took every bit of skill she had to survive the next few moments.
Even as she cut a bloody swathe through the Void Born with divine metal and divinely empowered wind, the Void Born retaliated. Tentacles, teeth, claws, and jagged bone ripped and tore at her armour. The divine metal creaked as it fought to withstand the assault. A huge Void Born, easily bigger than a whale, surged out of the water on tattered wings, and its jaws closed around her right forearm. If not for the excellent quality of her armour, she’d have lost her arm. As it was, she could only curse wildly and lash out with one of her swords. The blade went hilt-deep into the creature’s skull, and she channelled a burst of her power through it. The resulting explosion of wind blew the creature’s head apart, and she jerked her arm free. The very tip of one of the creature’s teeth had managed to puncture her armour at the last moment, and blood poured from the wound. She spat another mouthful of curses and tried to back away and put distance between her and the Void Born.
Gods normally healed immediately from almost any injury, but the Void Born complicated things. Their very existence was anathema to the gods, and the wounds they inflicted often festered and healed slowly. She surrounded herself in a tornado and fought to get above the horde. They came after her, and the tornado did very little to slow them down. It tossed aside the smallest and weakest of them, but the others, the ones that were truly a threat, were hardly affected by it at all. Ignoring the pain in her arm – it was likely broken – she fired a shockwave of compressed air downward. It pulped the Void Born closest to her and knocked the others back, but she was running out of time.
She’d already killed scores of them, but these weren’t even the mightiest of the Void Born. They were foot soldiers, and their success was predicated on their ability to overwhelm their opponents with their numbers. And there were still so many of them left. They surrounded her, and she fought as best she could, killing anything she could reach as she bent the winds to her will. Razor-sharp gales sliced some of the Void Born apart as buffeting winds flung others back. The vile, black blood of the Void Born stained her armour, and she finally managed to get free of them. She wheeled away and reached for the clouds.
Working as quickly as she could, she wove a net of cutting winds, pouring power into it to make it as cohesive but sharp as possible. She threw the net down, and it entangled many of the Void Born and cut them to pieces. But more of them were coming from the ocean. She dragged in a deep breath and wiped some blood off her brow. She glanced down at her hand. That was her blood, but she hadn’t even noticed there was a cut on her brow until then. Her jaw tightened. She was going to be overrun. There was no way around it. There were simply too many of them. She turned to say something to Young Death. The younger goddess should take the raccoon and flee as far as she could. Surely, Zephyra had bought enough time by now. Even if Zephyra couldn’t get away, it couldn’t be long now before the other gods noticed the barrier and came to help. They could protect Young Death. But before Zephyra could say anything, Young Death flew to her side and handed her the raccoon.
“You’re hurt.” Young Death’s eyes blazed with a colour Zephyra could not put into words, and the air was suddenly thick with divine power. “I’ve been watching. I understand how they fight now.” There was something different in Young Death’s voice. It was the same thing that had pressed her lips into a firm line, the same thing that made the shadows around her seethe and boil. It was anger. Young Death no longer seemed so childish. The hard expression on her face, the fury in her eyes, the overwhelming power rolling off her – she was death made manifest, every inch her father’s daughter. “Stay behind me. They are all going to die.”
Young Death lifted one hand, and the space above her palm rippled and tore. A scythe blacker than the dead of night appeared, and reality groaned as the curved edge of the weapon cut through Creation itself. Zephyra had heard about Death’s scythe. If Young Death’s scythe was anywhere near as powerful as her father’s…
“I can’t control my powers properly yet. It makes it hard to practice because I might accidentally kill the person I’m training with.” Young Death’s form was wreathed in shadows, and the feeling of oppressive, soul-crushing power only grew stronger. “That won’t matter here. Stay back.”
“Wait –”
Zephyra’s words died in her throat as she saw exactly how well Young Death’s name suited her. The young goddess was a blur of motion that not even Zephyra’s divine eyes could follow. She seemed to be everywhere at once, her black cloak billowing outward to form a cloud of shadows that sharpened into countless blades of inky darkness as she struck down opponent after opponent. Whatever Young Death’s scythe touched died, destroyed utterly and completely. Whenever the Void Born tried to surround her, Young Death burst free of them amidst a hail of impossibly sharp shadows and sweeping strikes of her scythe. She lifted one hand, and a vast, shadowy maw appeared, consuming scores of Void Born before it vanished. For all that she was still a child amongst the gods, Young Death was nevertheless the daughter of two Greater Gods.
Suddenly, there was a tremendous crack like all the thunder of a storm being unleashed in a single instant, and the sky above them split open. The Void Born’s barrier had been broken. Zephyra looked up and saw who was responsible. Death had come. The Greater God’s eyes shone from beneath the hood of his cloak, and his power roared outward. The Void Born died an instant later, consumed in the tempest of Death’s wrath. There was something else in the ocean, something far vaster and more terrible than any of the Void Born they had encountered thus far. The shadow of it moved beneath the waves, larger than any kraken, more horrible than any monster.
Death’s gaze shifted to the water.
There was no sound. There was no light. Instead, a swathe of the ocean simply ceased to exist, along with whatever had lurked within it. As water rushed in to fill the gap, Death gestured at the area around them. The feeling of wrongness lifted. The fissure in Creation had been sealed.
Death moved to his daughter’s side and checked her swiftly for injury. Only after he was certain she was unharmed did he turn his attention to Zephyra. He was silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke. “You have my thanks. You did well.”
Zephyra sagged in the air. Only fear of embarrassing herself in front of the Greater God kept her aloft. There were ripples of divine energy, and several other gods, her father amongst them, arrived. “I… uh… you told me to take care of her.”
“I appreciate your efforts to protect my daughter, and I know she does too.” Death gestured at her injuries. “You should get those treated. The wounds inflicted by the Void Born have a tendency to fester if left untreated.”
“I will.” Zephyra was finding it very hard to keep her eyes open. All of a sudden, she was very, very tired. “Just give me a second…”
The last things she felt were Young Death catching her and her raccoon scurrying up to poke her in the cheek. Funny. The little kleptomaniac actually seemed worried about her.
* * *
When Zephyra woke up, she was in her bedroom in her family’s estate in the divine realm. Her raccoon was munching on a mango nearby while still keeping a firm h
old on her apple. Young Death sat in a chair opposite the bed with her head buried in a book.
“Are you okay?” Young Death asked as she put her book aside. “My father would have healed your injuries himself, but he says a lot of gods don’t want to be healed by him.”
Zephyra sat up and checked her injuries. They were gone. “Uh… I feel fine.” She looked around. “Where are your father and my father?”
“They went to deal with more Void Born before going with Wayfarer to counterattack.” Young Death ran her fingers along the spine of her book. “My father said you should stay here and rest. He said your injuries look fine, but your powers might not work as well as you’re used to for a day or two. I asked if I could stay with you. Is that okay?”
“I don’t mind. What are you reading?”
Young Death held up her book. “Muse wrote it for me. It’s a story about a hungry badger.”
Zephyra peered at the book. It was very obviously a book for children. The words were written in large letters, and there were bright, colourful pictures. It would have been easy to forget just how much of a child Young Death was after seeing her slaughter the Void Born. However, this was yet another reminder that even if Young Death was the daughter of two Greater Gods, she was still a child.
“Can I ask you a question?” Young Death murmured. Zephyra nodded. “What’s a piggyback?”
“What’s a piggyback?” Zephyra stared. “You really don’t know what a piggyback is?” Young Death shook her head. Well, this wouldn’t do. Over the years, Zephyra had gotten countless piggybacks from her parents and siblings. No young god should have to go through their divine childhood without knowing what a piggyback was.
“No.” Young Death hid behind her book. “I wanted to ask my father, but I don’t want to bother him.”
“Bother him?” Zephyra chuckled. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do to bother your father.” She got up and stretched. She wasn’t supposed to use her powers, but she could do this. “But since he’s not here at the moment, how about I show you what a piggyback is?” She turned and gestured to Young Death. “Come on. Climb onto my back.”
“Are you sure?” Young Death stepped forward hesitantly and then climbed onto Zephyra’s back. She was surprisingly light. Perhaps her voluminous cloak made her seem bigger than she actually was. “This is… fun.”
“It’s supposed to be.” Zephyra headed out of her room. “I’m hungry, so I’m going to find something to eat. You can stay on my back if you want.” She heard a rustle and turned her head. Her raccoon had decided to get a piggyback from Young Death.
If any of Zephyra’s servants thought it odd for her to be walking around with Young Death clinging onto her back like a raccoon while an actual raccoon clung onto the younger goddess’s back, none of them said a word. It was actually quite amusing to watch their eyes widen as they tried to make sense of what they were seeing. A few of them even tripped over or ran into walls or pillars. Zephyra grinned. She could get used to this, and it was nice to have someone to treat like a younger sibling. She was the youngest of her siblings, so she’d never been able to do that before.
“So…” Zephyra said as they sat down in the garden to enjoy some more fruit. “What do you want to do now?” She kept a close eye on her fruit. Her raccoon, that rascal, was eyeing her pear enviously. It was only a matter of time before he made his move – and she would be ready for him.
“Do you want to see my pony?” Young Death asked shyly.
“You have a pony? I didn’t know you had one.”
“My father got him for me. Twinkles was mad because he wasn’t able to help me when I was fighting the Void Born, but the barrier wouldn’t let me summon him.” Young Death smiled sunnily. “So he said I should keep him around all the time, in case there’s any trouble.”
“Twinkles? That’s an interesting name.” Zephyra wasn’t sure how much help a pony would have been against the Void Born, but Young Death definitely liked her pony a lot. “Go ahead and summon him.”
There was a burst of shadow and flame, and Zephyra found herself staring into the burning eyes of a young Nightmare. Madness and malevolence rolled off the beast in waves, and it glared at Zephyra menacingly before trotting over to Young Death and munching on the carrot she offered it.
“Um… I don’t think Twinkles is a pony.” Nor did Zephyra think Twinkles was an appropriate name for a Nightmare.
“Of course, he’s a pony.” Young Death’s smile widened. “His full name is Shadow Blaze, but I call him Twinkles for short because of the merry twinkle in his eyes.” She pointed. “See? His eyes are twinkling.”
Zephyra tried not to grimace. Twinkles didn’t have a twinkle in his eyes. It was more like his eyes were made of hellish fire drawn from the depths of the underworld. “Uh… sure. Whatever you say.” She pointed down at the ground. “I guess you can keep him around, but do you think you could get him to cut down on the fire a little? He’s burning the grass.”
“Oops.”
Attempted Heroism
Mischief looked down at the skinny young man crouched behind the rock she was sitting on. As mortals went, he wasn’t much to look at, nor did he radiate the surety and sense of purpose common in would-be heroes. If anything, it was the opposite. Here was a young man in desperate need of confidence and direction. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” she drawled.
“Seriously?” He waved his sword in her general direction. Under normal circumstances, he would have punctuated the gesture by standing to his full height. Alas, he happened to enjoy living, which meant that standing up was not an option. Well, not if he wanted to keep his head attached on his shoulders. “You’re going to ask me that right now? Couldn’t you – I don’t know – help?” He all but shrieked the last part, and his sword waving took on a truly frenzied rhythm.
“Not to be rude, but this is supposed to be your epic, heroic quest. How would it be epic or heroic if I did all of the hard work for you? Besides, this is funny. You were so sure that you couldn’t lose because you’re a demigod armed with a weapon of divine origin. Few heroes can say the same although few heroes end up cowering behind a rock.” Mischief pointed at his sword. The weapon glowed, as though embers smouldered deep within the gleaming metal of the blade. “But you know what they say. Confidence cometh before the fall.”
“Yes, yes! I know! I know!” he wailed. “Just help me!”
Mischief favoured him with another beatific smile – his screaming was so wonderfully therapeutic to listen to and ignore – and then turned her head ever so slightly to examine the cause of his panic. As monsters went, manticores weren’t particularly threatening, at least, not to a god. Admittedly, this manticore was an especially fearsome specimen. It had the body of a lion with large, bat-like wings and the tail of a scorpion. Its head was somewhere between leonine and human, albeit with several rows of razor-sharp teeth. What truly set this manticore apart from its brethren was its size. The average manticore was similar in size to a rhinoceros whereas this menacing individual was closer in size to an elephant.
The ornery beast roared and jabbed its tail at the rock the young man was hiding behind, careful to avoid hitting Mischief. It might not be the smartest creature in the world, but it had the situation involving the young man well under control. The last thing it needed was to give Mischief a reason to smite it. Every now and then, it stopped using its tail as a melee weapon in favour of shooting deadly barbs at the rock. Luckily for the young man, he’d chosen a very sturdy rock to cower behind. Aside from Mischief’s presence, the manticore was also concerned about the young man’s weapon. The would-be hero had thus far not given the manticore any reason to believe he knew how to use it properly, but the manticore, like many beasts, had a sixth sense for the divine. It didn’t know what the sword did. However, it could tell that the sword was of divine origin, which was reason enough to be cautious. Perhaps the young man might get lucky, or perhaps he was simply pretending to be comple
tely incompetent.
“Oh, stop whining. I’m not going to kill it for you.” Mischief sighed dramatically. “Garrett, if only you’d listened to me earlier, you wouldn’t be in this mess. Out of the goodness of my loving and generous heart and because of the friendship I share with your mother, I offered to train you. But what was it you said? Ah, that’s right. You said you didn’t need training because you possessed, and I quote, ‘divine awesomeness and a divine weapon of awesome power’. And so here you are… cowering behind a rock. Not only do you not know how to use your sword of divine origin but you also didn’t bother to bring any proper armour or even a decent shield, which would have been handy since this manticore is the largest one I’ve seen in at least two centuries.”
To be fair, Garrett was wearing armour – it just wasn’t very good. Leather armour, no matter how fashionably designed, was going to do precisely nothing against even a scrawny manticore, never mind the towering specimen he was up against. And he did have a shield – or rather, he’d had a shield. The shield in question had been made of wood, and it had been shattered approximately five seconds into the fight. It was a minor miracle that he hadn’t lost his arm along with it.
“I thought I could handle it!”
Mischief shook her head in fond exasperation. She would have ruffled his hair, but she didn’t want to show him too much favouritism even if his mother was one of her best friends. “Idiot.” She glanced over at the cloaked figure standing on another rock. She almost laughed. Was he trying to keep up appearances, or was looking awe-inspiring simply part of his identity. “Hi, Death. How long do you think my cowering friend here will last if I don’t help him?”
Divine Assistance Page 20
