The Girl and the Goddess

by James Stone

  ‘No. They aren’t real angels.’ She had whispered to herself, ‘None of them are.’ But Magmaya had heard her all the same.

  These were angels, though. And it was the truest thing she’d ever known as she watched them stand about in the snow. Magmaya could scarcely believe the whole ordeal wasn’t just another dream. Sweat pooled around her fingers where she tugged at the reigns until, at last, she found the courage to loosen from the saddle and dismount.

  She found herself looking up to the Divinicus as if she was a child again, their grinning yet vacant faces bearing down at her with perhaps the deepest condescending she’d ever been witness to, and yet, somewhere in her, she found the strength to speak.

  ‘Lord Commander Fabius, it’s a pleasure to meet you,’ she said, a hint of weariness in her voice. ‘I’m Magmaya Vorr, chancellor of Orianne.’ Magmaya paused. ‘What brings you so far north?’

  Silence took the shore as the first man to have stepped forward did so again, and like before, he loosened his helm and stared them down with those wrinkled, beady eyes.

  ‘Magmaya Vorr,’ he began, his voice coarse and elegant all at once like two people were speaking in unison. ‘I’m Lord Legatus Kurulian, Chief Advisor to the Lord Commander.’ There was another pause as he reached to his hip and produced a bound scroll. He began unsheathing it, until Fabius raised a hand.

  ‘Legatus,’ the Divinicus ordered him, ‘there’s no need for such a formality. We’re not at war with these people.’

  Kurulian nodded quietly and slipped the scroll away.

  ‘The question goes unanswered,’ Magmaya grumbled.

  ‘I said, we are the truth—’ Fabius started but didn’t quite finish.

  ‘We’ve little patience for such niceties,’ Siedous snapped.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘We scarcely have anyone travel to our shores,’ he said. ‘My chancellor deserves an answer.’

  ‘Of course.’ Fabius nodded sympathetically. ‘Twenty years have passed since the Kytherans arrived here, no? Twenty years is time enough. Inamorata has long been due a trip north.’

  ‘Do you normally wait this long to make new friends?’ Magmaya asked. She remembered it now—some story Kharon’s lover had told her of how above Kythera, there stretched Inamorata—the land of false angels and aristocrats.

  ‘My lady,’ Fabius began, ‘we’ve travelled for almost two weeks to reach—’

  ‘But for what?’ she cut in. ‘Territory?’ Why do I expect something so shallow from a man dressed as an angel?

  Fabius’ eyes widened, and a deeper, darker smile spread across his face. ‘We want your allegiance, not land. Our colonies are rising against us. The continent must unify against them.’ He paused. ‘We’ve been studying the north for many weeks now. It seems you too are in trouble. You need our hand also.’

  ‘We were in trouble,’ Magmaya said.

  ‘If Inamorata holds the north, we can coerce the southernmost reaches into compliance,’ he said, ignoring her. ‘Isolated, we’re no use at all.’

  ‘The north isn’t held by anyone,’ she said. ‘Except me.’

  ‘So, you’re turning us away?’ Fabius asked.

  ‘Orianne takes no commands from pearly men,’ Siedous scorned.

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ Magmaya said. ‘Though I suppose we can at least listen to them.’ She turned to Siedous and whispered, ‘I’m no happier with this arrangement than you are. But we shan’t just turn them away.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Fabius crooned. ‘We come to the north to bring peace and to vouch for the chancellor of Orianne. We would not travel a thousand icy seas out of folly.’

  Magmaya nodded and turned to the others. ‘Then let them share our wine. Let them tell us of the south,’ she proclaimed.

  ‘Mag—’ Siedous protested, but she ran a finger across her throat.

  ‘We would be honoured.’ Fabius nodded.

  ‘Bring only as many men as you need,’ the old knight instructed glumly. ‘The city is beyond the mountaintop. It’s a hard ride.’

  Despite their lack of cavalry, the Divinicus were resolute as they travelled. Fabius had, of course, insisted on bringing half of his company with him, as well as his advisors. And as they began to scale the mountainside, Magmaya couldn’t help but wonder if her bitterness was playing into Fabius’ hand. Even through his headdress, she could see those black eyes move from dead tree to dead tree, weighing up her home. Perhaps he had conquered a thousand lands and killed a thousand girls like her along the way. How many others had he struck down with that shimmery falchion of his?

  ‘My chancellor.’ Siedous reached her, panting. ‘I’ve good faith in you,’ he said, but then, he frowned, and her heart sank. ‘But we were warned of angels by the Kytherans, Magmaya. We can’t dare trust them.’

  ‘I know,’ she answered quietly. ‘But what alternative do we have? We can’t turn them down—they outnumber us vastly. Besides, we’re in ruin, Siedous.’

  ‘When angels fall from the sky, most drop to their knees and pray, Magmaya,’ he said. ‘But there’s one thing they always forget to do—look to the heavens and ask what’s in it for them?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘We are the truth,’ Siedous reminded her. ‘In all my years, I have never known anyone so self-righteous. And I knew your father.’

  ‘Neither of us have been to the south. We don’t know what they’re like.’

  ‘Just tread carefully, my chancellor,’ he warned. ‘You may think you know what this faraway land is like, but I fear these men are as selfish as we are.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose any angel that dresses like that must be compensating for something.’

  Siedous smiled warmly. ‘Take them to the boardroom and show them a girl who isn’t afraid to love where she lives,’ he said, and then her heart must’ve broken in two.

  Rallun and perhaps a hundred Tyla stood stoically at the city gates when Magmaya and the angels returned. His expression was as ambiguous as ever, but the strained faces of the raging crowds behind him proved clear enough to interpret.

  The commoners parted as they rushed into the cobblestone streets, shattered edifices and spiralling towers encasing them. And above all the noise of the city, her people were shouting, that much was certain; she was feeling sicker by the minute.

  ‘A warm welcome.’ Fabius must’ve caught up with her because a moment later, he was without his helm and whispering in her ear.

  ‘The city is afraid of people like you,’ Magmaya remarked. ‘Strange men from far away have shown us little kindness of late.’

  ‘You were invaded?’ the Divinicus asked.

  ‘Betrayed,’ she admitted. ‘Besieged.’

  ‘I see.’ Magmaya felt her stomach curdle as he spoke, his voice like warm silk against her neck. ‘Have you been their leader for long?’

  ‘A few months,’ she said feebly.

  ‘A few months is time enough for a young girl,’ he said, sighing.

  ‘Quite,’ she agreed and rode on through the city.

  The boardroom had become an increasingly familiar sight over the passing weeks, and on each occasion that Magmaya sat at its head, she felt as if she was losing another part of herself. With each new query came a verdict to pass which stemmed a new tree of rulings and obligations. Perhaps in a few days, she too would be maddened like her father, and not a high lord would be able to stop her.

  But now, angels sat before her with smiles that could’ve burned hell, and something else in her had changed. The snow fell like a storm of blazing moonstars, while their shimmery vessel (she had heard it was called The Golden Damnation) lingered beyond. Their shadows engulfed hers, and their mere presence seemed to light the candles in the room.

  And when a girl sat face to face with angels, she could do nothing but spend her every word praising them. It didn’t matter whether they were truly made of stardust or not, she hadn’t a choice in th
e matter of how she treated them. They were angels with haloes, and she was an unkempt girl atop a ruined city. Perhaps it really was the end of the world.

  Scribes fluttered in and out, clearly in awe—and so they should’ve been. The small, pale men were nothing in the wake of the towering angels; they were shimmering like stars and sported silky tunics which seemed to flow off them like silverwater. And every time a scribe approached, they did so with greater trepidation than they ever had around Kharon, staring up to their towering heights in some vain hope to describe their likeness.

  ‘If we may begin,’ Kurulian said with that voice like twisting leather and silk all at once. ‘I can hardly believe these men are privy to our council, my chancellor.’

  ‘Each meeting is recorded,’ she heard herself say, ‘as was the last, as the next will be.’

  There was silence for a moment as paper was tidied. Then, Rallun addressed the angels, droning on for a little longer until he finally asked something of substance: ‘May the Lord Commander make clear where exactly his host travelled from?’

  ‘Of course,’ Fabius replied. ‘The Divinicus hail from Inamorata, a great power south of Lumiar—’

  ‘Lumiar?’ Magmaya asked.

  ‘South of your Silver Mountainside. Desolate and uncontested, save for several terrible death cults. Only a fool would travel so far north, especially by land.’ He straightened himself. ‘Anyway, twenty years ago a similar vessel journeyed here, no?’

  ‘Yes, but smaller.’ Siedous answered, to Magmaya’s surprise. When she had fallen from that pile of books, it had looked as if it were the biggest thing in the world.

  ‘From Kythera?’ Kurulian asked.

  ‘That’s where they claimed to be from.’ Siedous nodded. ‘But they were not like you. They were no host of armoured angels.’

  ‘Have you a problem with armoured angels?’ Fabius cocked his head.

  ‘No,’ Rallun said through gritted teeth. ‘We certainly do not.’

  ‘They were low-born pilgrims, that’s all I mean,’ Siedous said. ‘They wanted nothing but warmth and a haven.’

  ‘I see,’ Fabius said. ‘You didn’t let them take advantage of you, though, did you?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Magmaya asked.

  ‘You really think they travelled here for warmth?’ The angel smirked.

  ‘This isn’t about them,’ she said, growing irritated.

  ‘I fear it is, my dear.’ Fabius turned to Siedous. ‘How long did the pilgrims stay for?’ He pursed his lips together.

  ‘A year? I couldn’t tell you exactly,’ the old knight murmured.

  ‘Though you did say the meetings were recorded?’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘But they’re to be found in the archives.’

  ‘Then so be it.’ Fabius said with the wave of a hand.

  ‘The archives are vast,’ Magmaya found herself saying. ‘It might take hours.’

  ‘I am happy to wait,’ Fabius said, seemingly unperturbed.

  ‘Then we’ll adjourn this meeting until the morrow,’ Rallun announced, turning to the angels. ‘We can offer your men hospitality until then.’

  ‘Very well.’

  Magmaya stole a deep breath, turned to one of the serving girls and stuttered, ‘Bring me something to drink.’

  A moment later, the boardroom was silent, and she found herself on the balcony again and staring out into the endless cold. The angels had gone (for now), but her council persisted like they were demanding something from her. It was suffocating.

  ‘I can’t stand this heat any longer.’ Magmaya fanned herself and headed to the doors.

  Siedous tried to say something, but it was just a whisper to the wind. And so, she left the room alone, only to find one of the palace’s sentinels following her. She turned back, dismissed him and ambled through the halls, sparing a glance at Rache as he slept and carried on until she finally felt the cool of the frost against her skin again.

  The wind that cut at her face was refreshing and the thought of escaping the boardroom even more so. But with every passing second, she found herself drawn to the far-off mountains and to the light of the vessel that hummed beyond. It might as well have been a falling star; perhaps one of those would’ve brought less distress than the angels had. She wished she could’ve just curled up beneath the wrath of a fireplace and allowed Kharon to tend to it; perhaps then she could have forgotten about Nurcia, forgotten about everything.

  But Orianne was a different place than it had been when he was alive. Whether it was the Mansel or the falling angels, it was different. And it was difficult. The only constant was the light crunch of wet snow beneath her foot, and even that had thawed a little as the summer sun reached its peak and beat down on her with endless silver passion.

  Her stomach was grumbling, but she was forced to remind herself it would be a while until she’d sup again—she had time to kill and no place to find herself, so she strolled around the outskirts of the palace and across the broken bridges that led out into the mountainside. They were caught somewhere between prosperity and ruin, easy enough to scout across still, given the right tread. Rushing water cut through the snowy banks below, threatening to swallow her with each misstep, but she had come too far to die from falling. Then again, she had heard that the greatest of kings drunk themselves to death.

  Soon enough, the foot of the mountain would appear, and with it, she could look out for miles across the city below and down to all the tiny people and rows of spires that stretched out into the Deadfields. She smiled and took a deep breath, letting the cold, empty air fill her lungs. That was before she heard another pair of footsteps in the snow.

  ‘My chancellor,’ a grim voice called, and she turned, half expecting to find Siedous coming for her again. But instead, there was Kurulian, braving the snow with a face sterner than the snow itself.

  Magmaya curtsied awkwardly. ‘Forgive me—’

  ‘No need.’ He waved the thought away, but his voice was cold, and she thought for a moment it might have been sarcasm.

  ‘Do they want me back already?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t think the food would be ready yet. I wanted a little break before the… talking started again.’

  ‘No, not yet,’ he answered duly. ‘I too am bored with talks, though. Don’t I deserve to see the mountains? There aren’t mountains from where I come.’

  ‘There aren’t mountains in Inamorata?’

  Kurulian shook his head as if he were deep in thought, but his eyes lacked the truth that everyone else’s always spilt. ‘Inamorata has many mountains, remnants of long ago. But I’m not from there.’

  ‘Kythera, then?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘All my men are of the south. Fabius too. But I’m not.’

  ‘If not the south, then where?’ she asked, growing impatient.

  ‘Somewhere across the seas.’ He shrugged plainly. ‘Far enough to be a stranger. Close enough to be a slave still.’ He paused. ‘And the less said of that, the better.’

  ‘Oh.’ Magmaya fell silent, irritated. ‘So how did you find the Divinicus then?’

  ‘I travelled, I bargained.’ He tossed his head from shoulder to shoulder. Sometimes, a man must kill to survive, and killing impresses the angels.’

  ‘Keep your killing away from here,’ Magmaya said. ‘We’ve had enough of that.’

  ‘Lord Rallun spoke of a siege,’ he started. ‘It was recent then?’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I bloody fought in it.’

  Kurulian frowned and asked, ‘Did you…?’ He dragged his finger across his throat.

  She nodded.

  ‘There’s a certain knack to taking someone’s life,’ he replied. ‘Some people wouldn’t wish death on their worst enemy.’

  ‘A knack?’ she asked. ‘It’s this talk that makes me afraid of you.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Our reputation wins half our wars for us.’

  ‘I do hope this isn’t
one of your wars,’ she mewled.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’d certainly know if it was, girl.’ Kurulian smiled for what felt the first time, but as he did, his face seemed to twist, displaying an army of scars, hidden behind the wrinkles in his skin.

  Magmaya wondered for a moment before stammering, ‘If you’re so good at killing people, then maybe you can help me.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘There’s someone I’ve set my sights on.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘We took prisoners after the siege,’ she explained. ‘One of them—well, there are personal stakes.’

  ‘And your council wants them alive, I presume?’

  ‘They want to ransom her back to the invaders.’ Magmaya’s head was growing warm just thinking about it. ‘She was a traitor. She’ll get away with her crimes.’

  ‘Ransom her for what?’

  ‘A small number of our men,’ she explained.

  Kurulian nodded. ‘And you have no other prisoners?’

  ‘A few. None like her, though.’

  ‘You’re their chancellor,’ he remarked. ‘It’s your choice.’

  ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’ She scoffed. ‘It doesn’t matter. Fabius said that you were the truth, though. I thought you might’ve been able to help me.’

  ‘Half the south prays to their Maiden Gods, the other half prays to us,’ he remarked. ‘Does that make us the truth?’ As if in answer, he shrugged.

  Magmaya sighed. ‘I thought you might have some insight into what I’m going to do, not riddle me.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Then I can’t help you.’

  She grit her teeth, annoyed. The morning had left her exhausted. ‘Fine. What would you do with her, then?’

  He paused for a moment. And then he said, ‘Break her.’ The Divinicus glowered. ‘Have your fun. There is nothing more thrilling than revenge. But after that, you must do what is best for your people.’

  ‘I don’t understand…’

  ‘How many captives are you trading her for?’ he asked.

  ‘Four.’

  ‘Then there are five lives you can save.’