Gale & Hymn

by Wendy T Lyoness

  Gale & Hymn

  Wendy T. Lyoness

  Copyright © 2020 by Wendy T. Lyoness

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  The Last Stand

  Iorvil kneeled next to the Keeper, who pressed his palm against a grievous wound in his side. Blood stained his ornate robe, an explosion tore a new hole in the deck above them. The ship would crash soon, but she had a moment for farewells. Keeper Jerfell smiled at her through his long, bloodied, white beard, yet the wrinkles in his old face only whispered of pain.

  She’d thought they would survive, done everything in her power to encourage everyone to fight on through defeat after defeat, but now she found herself surrounded by bodies.

  At least her brethren had given their all before they’d fallen. Thotrix had lost more servants than Rhabour had lost faithful on this day. It wouldn’t make a difference, not when they’d always been outnumbered, but her friends could depart in peace. Their god could make no more demands of them. They’d paid with their lives, they’d claimed their first victory in months.

  “Take my necklace,” Jerfell said, and raised his hand to his neck, but groaned in pain before he could free the holy symbol. His arm hit the deck with a thud.

  “Not mine, Keeper.” Iorvil pressed her palms against his wound and prayed it would stop the bleeding. That, somehow, despite common sense, she could heal him with nothing but warmth. “It’s—“

  “Take it, Iorvil.” Jerfell narrowed his eyes. “If Rhabour finds himself with a single faithful left, that person must do everything in their power to spread his faith. This doesn’t have to be your end. Save our brethren. Search for a new beginning in the circles.”

  She would have protested, but Jerfell closed his eyes and departed with the rest of them. He’d said his last piece. He would have the final word, as so many times before, and nothing she did would bring him back for another argument.

  Iorvil removed the necklace from his neck. The round medallion waxed and waned like the phases of the moon, dependent on how light fell on it. It weighed more than she’d expected, yet it wouldn’t lend her the time to undo all their losses. Even though it had served as a holy symbol to keepers for centuries.

  She grabbed her double edged axe, rose to her feet, clutched the necklace in her hand, and nodded at the fallen faithful while she passed across the deck on her way to the captain’s cabin where the last of Thotrix’s servants lingered. They’d barricaded themselves inside with their machine. Her sister.

  “Rhabour…” Iorvil stopped outside of the barricaded door. A powerful wind swept bodies out of the holes in the hull. She didn’t like to beg her god for assistance, but if he planned to help, this would be the time. She wouldn’t get the door open before the ship crashed. “Lend me your strength, aid me in our darkest hour, and I swear I will be a loyal champion.”

  She felt a hand on her shoulder, yet when she turned to look, she didn’t see anyone. It was as much of a sign as she would receive from a weakened deity. Without thousands of followers, Rhabour amounted to no more than her personal light.

  Iorvil hung the necklace around her neck, prepared herself for battle, and attempted to kick the door open.

  It exploded into the captain’s cabin, along with the furniture they’d used for their barricade, and crushed two of Thotrix’s servants against the opposite wall.

  With Rhabour’s assistance, she ended the lives of her enemies as if they’d been beetles. Without her god, she wouldn’t have gotten the door open. He had much to offer yet.

  A third man rushed for the woman they’d kidnapped.

  Iorvil tossed her axe before he could use her as a human shield. It collided with his torso in a spray of blood, knocked him into the wall, and pinned him there with a wet thonk. He wouldn’t get down unless she retrieved her weapon.

  “Barbarian.” The man coughed blood on his embroidered tunic. “Look around, you’re alone. What do you think to accomplish by freeing my machine?”

  “She, and those like her, are my brethren.”

  “She’s our invention…” The man laughed while life seeped out of him.

  Iorvil despised Thotrix’s servants for how they treated those with magical prowess after they snatched them from Rhabour. When she looked at this woman cowering in front of her, in the middle of the cabin, she recognized the proud features of her own people, their height, their rugged hair, their cold eyes, but Thotrix had replaced everything else.

  The servants of the inventor god had given her sister a new forest green gown, and under that gown, they’d attached their machines to her arms to tap into her power, combine it with their god, and make their ships lift off the ground.

  Iorvil approached her sister, slowly, with outstretched hands like someone might approach a terrified, injured horse. “Don’t be scared. You don’t have to serve them any longer. You—“

  “Phoxene, crash the ship.” The man gave her sister his last order. “Far, far from the empire.”

  “As you wish,” Phoxene said, stretched her arms out along her sides, and roared when they began to crackle, click, and whirr.

  The atmosphere in the cabin became charged with energy. The gods watched them contemptuously.

  “Don’t!” Iorvil stepped up to the man, since she didn’t dare touch her sister, and dislodged her axe from his body, the wall, and cut his head off his neck lest he utter another command. “Don’t crash the ship. He’s dead, can’t hurt you.”

  Phoxene stared, opened her mouth. Sparks surged between her lips. “In the name of god.”

  Iorvil knew she shouldn’t have showed weakness, not even to one of her brethren, when the airship rolled and threw her against the wall of the cabin.

  Phoxene unleashed the energy amplified by the unnatural inventions drilled into her arms. The ship lurched, then it jumped.

  Ocean Soul

  Hymn walked around the main hall of her family’s tavern, The Amiciers’ Rest, wiped large, wooden table tops down, and hummed to calm herself. She’d worked the entire day, from morning to nightfall, yet she couldn’t finish until Hope told her she could leave.

  She didn’t know where her mother had gone, since she’d last seen her, but Hope was getting on in years. She fell asleep in the middle of the day, in rooms they’d assigned to guests, if no one paid attention to her. It was possible she’d taken a nap upstairs.

  If Venviel, Gale, or Art hadn’t been so unreliable, Hymn would have asked one of them to fetch Hope for her. Instead, she sought solace in chores she could perform alone. She took pride in her work, even if no one complimented her for it. She didn’t need constant attention like her twin.

  Honestly, she almost resented Gale for her behaviour. What point did fame serve? Why would anyone risk drawing the ire of gods and thousands of mortals? Hadn’t Gale learnt enough about Lho Allanar and the goddess of love, through their mothers’ tales, that she realized it was best to never ask for anything except a regular life?

  Hymn wished to inherit The Amiciers’ Rest, after Hope became too old to work, and settle down with a husband that respected her. She didn’t need anyone’s intervention. Since Venviel had told them tales about Orchid Brave, she’d decided to live a boring life. Adventure would get her killed, without a doubt, and in death she might encounter the gods in person. She didn’t want that.

  Besides, she loved the tavern and the village she’d grown up in. She’d never visited Lho Allanar, city of love, despite how Venviel had offered to take her on more than one occasion. The hullabaloo her mothers had caused had mellowed over the recent decade, but she didn’t need to see Lho Allanar up close. She saw it from the window in her room every n
ight she went to sleep. That was enough.

  “Oh.” Hope appeared at the top of the stairs, in the shadows of the second floor, with Syvis’ latest book tucked under her arm. Her twin tails swished from side to side. “You’ve not left yet, Hymn? Thought you’d gone home with the others.”

  “I—“

  “You’ve worked hard again, haven’t you?” Hope yawned, strode down the stairs, and stretched her arms above her head when she arrived at the bottom. She wore an apron, just like Hymn, but hers looked cleaner. “I told you to take it easy. I’m not about to drop dead, even if Venviel won’t stop fretting because I’ve grown older, and she’s as agile as ever. How was I ever supposed to keep up with her, I ask you. I’m no elf. I’m a monster.”

  “Demon,” Hymn corrected her mother out of habit.

  “Humans and elves tend to prefer monsters over demons they don’t believe in.” Hope laid her book on a table and yanked the cleaning rag out of Hymn’s hand with a grin. “Go home, rest. If you don’t listen to me, I’m going to force you to stop working for a month or two.”

  “But—“

  “No, go home.” Hope shooed her toward the door. “I can handle it. You’re irreplaceable to this business, but that doesn’t mean I want my daughter to work herself to death.”

  “I’m fine, mother. I can finish up.”

  Hope fixated her with her hypnotizing cyan eyes. “Go home. Now.”

  “That doesn’t work on us.” Hymn pulled the apron over her head, hung it on a hook by the entrance, and dusted crumbs off her brown dress. “But if you insist, mother, I will go and rest. I won’t stick around where I’m not—“

  “You’re always wanted where I am.” Hope interrupted her, danced around the tables, and picked up where Hymn had left off.

  She wouldn’t gain anything on arguing with her mother, so she opened the door to the tavern, stepped outside, and breathed in the fresh, salty air. To her right, she could see the eerie red glow of Lho Allanar on the horizon, and the path leading down to the beach. To her left, the wooden houses of Caelora were about to fall asleep alongside their inhabitants. The lights in windows would soon flicker out.

  Hymn could go home, the fast way, or she could go down to the beach for a late night stroll and make her way home later. It sufficed as excitement for her, even if it didn’t for Gale. In fact, it was quite thrilling.

  She turned toward Lho Allanar and followed the path along the sandy cliffs down to the beach, where she could live in the sound of the whispering waves. On stormy days, the ocean liked to talk her ears off. On calm, quiet nights like this, it sang a song to soothe her mind and carry her somewhere else. Somewhere she didn’t have to worry about gods.

  She stepped out of her shoes when she reached the beach, stuck her green toes in the sand, and shivered. The sand was colder than she’d anticipated, but she did not put her shoes back on. She strolled along the ocean, listened to the waves, and let her tail sway freely in the wind. Gale wasn’t the only one who knew how to cherish the empty hours.

  Hymn didn’t put her shoes back on until a huge silhouette became visible among the waves. At first, she dismissed it as another shark or whale, but the closer it drifted to her, the more it resembled a ship. Someone had blown holes in its hull, and the ship had lost its masts and sails. It couldn’t possibly be seaworthy judging by the state of it, yet it didn’t sink. It floated toward her.

  If she didn’t hide, whoever might remain aboard the vessel would notice her if they hadn’t already. Luckily, there were plenty of shadows, boulders, and rocky outcroppings along the beach, but she didn’t want to hide like a ninny if this was an attack on Caelora either.

  No smuggler or pirate would attack the village, since they were all welcomed, and several well-respected captains had sworn to defend Caelora when they’d been drunk out of their minds. Such promises may be flimsy, but few would test whether they held water or not in case they did anger a vicious pirate.

  She retreated in the direction of the cliff path that lead up to her home, hid behind a boulder, and watched a crab flee across small dunes of sand while the ship without sails floated against the currents. Someone must row it, yet she couldn’t hear a single individual. And if someone had decided to row a ship of that size, they’d need an army.

  Shipwrecked

  Gale loved her twin, though she could be a bit stuck up, so after Venviel and Art had fallen asleep, she grabbed her mother’s rapier, snuck out of their home, and headed for the tavern to retrieve the mule. Hymn shouldn’t have to do all the work herself. Gale realized that too, but she couldn’t work until she passed out. And Hymn lacked the ability to stop.

  Caelora lay still, peaceful. Only the ocean at the foot of the cliffs disrupted the calm with its promises of adventure. She watched the candles in the windows of her neighbours’ homes get blown out as the people went to bed in preparation for tomorrow.

  When she arrived outside The Amiciers’ Rest, she saw Hymn walking down the path to the beach. She whistled, hollered, and waved at her twin, but either Hymn didn’t hear her, or she ignored her like usual. It had become impossible to tell which over the last months.

  During her childhood, their entire family had slept in The Amiciers’ Rest, but the more wealth they’d accumulated, the more Venviel had pushed for them to get a second home. Hope hadn’t wanted anyone to get the idea that they thought they ruled the village though, so they’d not built their home larger than anyone else’s. They didn’t live in a mansion like those in Lho Allanar. They lived in a cosy house like everyone else in Caelora. Gale would have continued sharing a room with her twin, she’d even suggested it, but Hymn had protested loudly for weeks against the very idea.

  She shrugged, followed her twin, and figured she’d catch up to her on the beach where she could give her a piece of her mind. She wished she’d brought her lute with her, if they were about to take a stroll along the beach. The ocean was fun and all, but it liked to tempt her with dreams of fame. She wanted to believe she’d get out of Caelora one day, see the world, and travel until her weary legs gave out from under her.

  “Carry me away from here…” She sung and improvised another song. “Is there anywhere to disappear? I long to live like a buccaneer, so don’t tie me to the cruel puppeteer.”

  Gale scrunched her nose up. The song sounded too bleh, too dreary, too unlike her. She wouldn’t claim to be a great writer of ballads, but she could entertain crowds with her solemn, deep voice and her lute. She found it ironic how her twin, which her mothers had named Hymn, didn’t appreciate music. Or at least Hymn didn’t appreciate it when she sang.

  She sighed, hurried her steps, and found Hymn walking far ahead of her on the beach. She didn’t think she’d lost herself in her own singing and thoughts long enough to give Hymn such a head start, but she supposed she had.

  At times, she kind of zoned out. She could get caught up in music or pranks like nobody’s business. She understood not everyone appreciated her sense of humour, but she needed to have a certain personality to become famous. If she didn’t behave like every other bard, how could she ever become half as renowned as them?

  She supposed she could join a group of traveling freaks and put her horns on display for the world to see, but Hope would disown her if she did. The goddess of love herself might descend from the sky to teach her a stern lesson and transform her into an elf.

  All of a sudden, Hymn fled from the ocean to hide somewhere under the cliffs. Gale quirked an eyebrow. She’d never thought she’d watch her twin flee from the ocean, which she seemed to treasure more than anything in the world except work, so she wasn’t sure how to react.

  When she noticed the silhouette of a sunken ship, she assumed Hymn had mistaken it for an animal. She rolled her eyes, drew her mother’s rapier out of its scabbard, and decided to prove to Hymn that she didn’t have to fear everything outside of the tavern.

  She strode over to the huge vessel while Hymn called out for her to stop. If someone had surv
ived their ship sinking, wasn’t it their duty to assist them? How self-centered could her twin be?

  Our Fine Friends

  “What do you think it is?” Furore asked Fate, extended her purple legs out over the edge of the cliff, and rolled her cute toes.

  The ship below them, which the twins of Hope and Venviel approached, had an aura to it that she found fascinating, off-putting, and intimidating all at once. She wouldn’t claim she feared the strange vessel without masts, since she was a goddess with millions of worshippers with nothing to fear from mortals, but it put her on edge.

  Fate sniffed the air, blinked, and flapped her deer-like ears. “War.”

  “Care to elaborate, dear?” Furore rested her head against Fate’s golden figure.

  “Leftover after a long war between gods, somewhere.” Fate rolled her shoulders. “Everyone’s gone, in the carcass, except two of separate creeds.”

  Furore gripped the jagged glass dagger which hung at her side. “Do you think they’ll bring war to Lho Allanar?”

  “Too weak.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” Furore smiled at how she had a mentor in the original goddess of destiny and luck. She’d never genuinely thought she’d get this far after she’d slain the goddess of love. “What is this ship to us?”

  “An opportunity to introduce ourselves to old acquaintances.”

  Of Wonders

  While Iorvil couldn’t fault Thotrix’s servants when it came to their impressive indoctrination of Phoxene, she couldn’t kill the woman either. For one, she didn’t know where Phoxene had gone after she’d made the airship jump. She woke up in the captain’s cabin, unsure of how much time had passed, and made sure she still had the holy symbol around her neck. The necklace had gotten tousled in her hair, but she freed it.

  She heard waves crash against the hull, and even though they should have sunk due to the damage the ship had taken in the battle, they remained afloat. It might be the work of Phoxene, if she retained enough magic to keep them from outright sinking, or if she’d boarded up the holes in the hull. Iorvil had no idea how long she’d lain unconscious. She did wonder why Phoxene hadn’t strangled her.