Gale & Hymn

by Wendy T Lyoness

  “If she’s too weak, she shouldn’t be flying, should she?” Hymn pushed past her, stepped out onto the deck, and held her dress down along her sides when the wind tore at it. The mountains behind her made the woman seem so confident, noble, like the world best bend to her will or else. “Where is she? I wish to have a word with her myself.”

  Iorvil pointed at the stern where Phoxene stood leaned against the railing. Due to the distance between them, she appeared thin. “Take care not to anger her. Even if she can’t bring you home, she can toss you off the ship. Remember, it rolled. You don’t want to be out here if it does that again.”

  Hymn huffed, her lips quivered. “I need to go home. She will bring me there.”

  “She can’t. It’s not…” Iorvil trailed off when Hymn stomped away. “Not a possibility.”

  “See, my twin, she can be a bit stubborn,” Gale said. “But she’s a good person, trust me. She won’t do something stupid. She’s much smarter than me, it’s crazy.”

  “Why aren’t you upset?” Iorvil asked. “Don’t you want to go home again?”

  “Riding the excitement!” Gale stepped out onto the deck, squealed as she took in the sights around them, and bounced on her feet. “This is freaking amazing!”

  Iorvil decided then and there that she best keep an eye on Gale. Hymn would manage on her own, but her twin had too much energy for it to be contained. Gale might alert Thotrix and their armies to their presence simply because she couldn’t stay quiet during crucial moments.

  “Would you mind going back inside with me?” Iorvil held the door open.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Gale bolted down the deck toward the bow, stopped in her tracks, and cowered when another hawk screeched.

  Iorvil would have her hands full if she had to look after the twins until she could bring them home. Somehow, it had to be possible, even if Phoxene couldn’t be of assistance. She may have to escort them across a continent, but she would do it.

  Such a journey would give her an opportunity to search for a new beginning in new places. Hopefully the goddess of love would appreciate the assistance with her worshippers. Iorvil would never fall in love herself, as it would only serve to give her enemies an obvious weakness to exploit, but she might take a husband. She wouldn’t have to love him, but she would need to provide Rhabour with children, if she couldn’t inspire others to join her faith. Her mother and father had loved each other, and it hadn’t ended well for them. They’d died side by side in battle.

  Gale climbed the railing in the bow of the ship, stretched her arms out along her sides, and sang her lungs out in a high-pitched tune. Hymn glanced over her shoulder at her twin, shrugged, and stomped her foot on the deck to make Phoxene listen.

  Iorvil prayed the bad luck they’d mentioned regarding their goddess couldn’t spread to others. She didn’t want to end up in the middle of the twins, not in a way that might encourage their bickering to erupt into full blown war. They’d look better married, with flowers in their hair, than dead or injured.

  Cold Day

  In spite of her best attempt, and how long she tried, Hymn didn’t succeed in convincing Phoxene that she must bring them home immediately. It reached a point where Phoxene began to pretend she couldn’t understand her, since they hailed from different cultures, but Hymn wasn’t an idiot. She knew Phoxene could understand her well, thanks to the intervention of the gods.

  By the end, when she decided to give up for the day, she was so tired of Phoxene that she didn’t wish to see her expressionless face ever again. When the ship landed on a field in the middle of the highlands, Hymn retreated below deck. Iorvil mentioned something about how she would set out to hunt, and Gale offered to come with her, but Hymn needed to rest.

  She found a bed, on the lowest deck, and strapped in to sleep for a while with the leather straps attached to the bunk. If Phoxene got the idea to spin them all around again, she’d at least remain strapped to the bed. She assumed that was what the leather straps were for in the first place.

  She slept well and didn’t awaken again until after Iorvil had returned, at which point Gale loudly announced it to everyone. Then she headed up to the dining hall to help prepare their meal. Who knew if Iorvil had the slightest clue how to prepare meat without it tasting bland? Even if Hymn didn’t know a lot about how to hunt, she’d learnt how to cook when she’d been a child. Hope had taught her her tricks over the years.

  “Where is Iorvil?” Hymn asked Gale and Phoxene when she found them sitting around the only intact table in the dining hall. They jumped in their seats at the sound of her voice, as if she’d taken them by surprise. What a fine pair they made.

  “In the kitchen.” Gale yawned, scratched her neck. “Said I’d help, but she pushed me outside.”

  “What do you know about cooking?” Hymn scoffed, left them where they sat, and stopped in her tracks when realized she didn’t know where she had to go to find the kitchen. “Where is it?”

  “The door on the right, near the stern.” Gale smirked. “It’s the end of the ship, not the front.”

  “Thank you, Gale. Your insight is worth its weight in gold.”

  She stalked across the deck, threw the door to the kitchen open, and saw Iorvil skinning a couple of rabbits in the middle of what resembled a battlefield. She doubted the stains of blood splattered on the shelves and walls all originated from rabbits. The utensils and plates in the kitchen must have gotten tossed around while the ship had spun, because most of them lay strewn across the deck.

  “What?” Iorvil asked, dried her face on her broad upper arm, and put a long, sharp knife down on the counter. The giant had removed her leather armour. She wore a thin shirt with enough tears in it to make Hymn regret how she didn’t have clothes to offer her.

  “Hymn, I—“

  “I know how to cook,” Hymn said and shut the door to the kitchen before Iorvil could force her out like she’d done with her twin. “I worked in a tavern. I cooked every day. If you’d like to rest, I can be our cook until you bring us home.”

  “I see.” Iorvil pursed her lips. “I used to cook for my friends, those who lost their lives on this ship. They ate what I made them, never complained, but if you want to take over because my cooking isn’t up to snuff, I suppose I must let you.”

  “Y-you don’t…” Hymn leaned against the door. “I thought that you didn’t know how to…”

  “Cook? You took one look at me, Hymn, and filled in the blanks.” Iorvil shook her head. “I’ve been nice, so far, but I suggest you don’t push me too far in the wrong direction. Who knows when the barbarian will decide to eat you if you do? Or has the idea that me and my sister might be cannibals not occurred to you yet?”

  “Not it at all!” She raised her voice and received a tired stare in turn. “You’ve worked hard today, and I’ve slept. I wouldn’t think it fair if I didn’t offer to carry some of your load for you. I’d like to alleviate this burden you’ve shouldered. You can eat me afterwards if my cooking disappoints.”

  Iorvil quirked an eyebrow, smiled at her through weirdly familiar blue eyes. “I can?”

  An unwarranted heat came to her cheeks, and she realized she should flee and never talk to anyone else on the ship again other than her twin if she wanted to stay safe from Furore’s influence.

  Iorvil nodded at the counter next to her where there was enough space for Hymn to prepare their meals, if she planned to do so. “We can teach each other. If you don’t mind learning from a barbarian, I believe Rhabour would want me to teach you everything I know and more. I’ve got time. It’s all I’ve got.”

  Hymn gripped the handle to the door, her heart pounded in her chest like she’d been cornered by a bear. “W-will you keep your hands to yourself?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? Are you afraid I’d smear rabbit blood over your cute dress?” Iorvil laughed a laughter that made her think of better days spent in the company of friends in The Amiciers’ Rest. “I won’t. Don’t fear, Hymn. Rhabour would sooner g
ive both his own and my life than claim the life of an innocent such as yourself.”

  She believed Iorvil when she told her she didn’t have to fear her. Many pirates and smugglers had told her the same, but she’d not believed them for a second. She’d fully expected them to get handsy if she didn’t keep a knife on her person.

  “What’s Rhabour like?” She asked, stepped over broken plates on the kitchen deck, and searched for the utensils she’d need to assist Iorvil. She grabbed a knife that seemed sharp, undamaged. “Bad luck for me to talk about you know who, but I’ve never heard of this Rhabour before. Would you mind telling me about him?”

  “It would be my pleasure, Hymn.” Iorvil moved one of the rabbits over to her. “Rhabour is the god of time, the first god my brethren encountered, and the one who promised to protect us against the onslaught of the years. We may have been numerous once, but we never did great for ourselves. It always seemed we’d diminish to nothing if we couldn’t survive another harsh winter, another failed harvest, or another attack by bandits.”

  “But he kept you safe?” Hymn checked the rabbit by poking her finger into it, searched the shelves for some kind of spice, and discovered pepper in a bag on the floor.

  “He did. At least up until the empire found us. Thotrix’s servants enslaved many of my people who would have become keepers, people like Phoxene, and weakened us.”

  “Sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much, but you have my sympathy.” Hymn cut the rabbit into smaller pieces. “I wouldn’t hate following this Rhabour. He sounds like a vast improvement over my own, well my mothers’, deity. He sounds like he cares a great deal for your people.”

  “He did.” Iorvil sighed. “He still does, but I need to find a new beginning, or my people will perish.”

  “What’s a new beginning? How do you know you’ve found one?”

  Iorvil looked at her in silence, for a moment, while they worked. “It’s an opening in the circles of time where the seed of the new is most likely to grow and flourish. For example, meeting someone sweet who’s open to following your beliefs if you teach them.”

  Hymn took a step away from her. “How nice.”

  Win or Lose

  Hymn may have slept, but Gale hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep since they’d stepped aboard the Gustfin. She’d been wide awake the entire time. She didn’t think she could fall asleep, even if she tried. If she’d not known that it was an involuntary reaction to exhaustion, she would have claimed she’d forgotten how to sleep altogether.

  Phoxene sat at the end of the dining table, with her arms on top, and stared at the opposite wall, yet Gale caught her glancing at her horns again and again. They’d not spoken much to each other. Gale had sat down next to her, after Iorvil had forced her out of the kitchen, and greeted Phoxene, but then they’d fallen into a peculiar silence.

  She swore she heard a clicking coming from underneath Phoxene’s gown. She slid her hand across the table top, sneakily, toward Phoxene’s arm, stopped whenever the woman glanced at her horns, and pushed the fabric aside with her thumb. If Phoxene hadn’t laid her hand on top of Gale’s, she would have uncovered what caused the clicking.

  They looked at each other. Gale didn’t have an explanation for what she’d done in her sleep-addled state, and Phoxene didn’t ask her to apologize or explain either. Gale noticed how the colour of Phoxene’s eyes seemed to shift from grey to green whenever they moved. They were very pretty in their own right.

  Phoxene leaned away without getting up from her seat when Gale tried to get a closer look at her irises. The woman reminded her of a horse. She didn’t fear Gale, but she didn’t try to become closer acquainted with her either. She kept staring at the wall while the clicking went on and on.

  “Click, click goes this fine, elegant chick,” Gale sung quietly, yet managed to make Phoxene turn toward her nonetheless. “Oh, what a kick. I’d be a lunatic to not watch the end of the wick with her on my stick.”

  Phoxene smacked her lips, stared at her horns without hiding it. “You have a stick too?”

  “No, but if I’d been a man, it would have been a terrific rhyme.” Gale chuckled and pushed at the fabric covering Phoxene’s arm again, but was forced to stop when she grabbed her hand.

  “What are you?” Phoxene squeezed her fingers a little too hard. “Some kind of half-goat, half-elf?”

  “Half-demon, actually.” Gale shrugged, yawned. “It’s a long story. Anyway, what’s making that noise? The clicking?”

  “I could tell you,” Phoxene whispered, brought her face closer, and gritted her teeth. “But then you wouldn’t think of me as fine or elegant. You’d think of me as hideous, disgusting, and I don’t need a singer singing songs of what Thotrix did to me. It’s my secret.”

  “I could tell you a secret of mine in turn.”

  “What?”

  “I find you intensely intimidating and attractive this close.”

  She could have sworn she saw a smile creep across Phoxene’s lips, but then the woman murdered it before it could blossom. Gale smelled ash and soot on her breath. At least she’d found the source of the heat in the room.

  “Funny.” Phoxene let go of her fingers.

  When she leaned back in her seat and resumed staring at the wall, Gale wondered if she’d just told her what she’d told her, or if she’d imagined it. Phoxene pretended nothing had happened quick enough to make Gale question reality. She probably wouldn’t have dared tell someone like Phoxene that she found her attractive, if she’d gotten enough sleep.

  “Are you angry?”

  “Not yet.” Phoxene placed her elbow on the table, rested her chin in her palm, and observed Gale. “But you best clarify what you intend to accomplish here. I bite.”

  “I…” Gale should have ploughed ahead while she’d not paid attention to her own behaviour, because now self-doubt got hold of her heart. She pushed her chair out and stood to leave, but Phoxene grabbed her by her arm.

  “Could I request another song?” Phoxene flashed a wolf-like grin. “Whatever is popular in your neck of the woods, it could give me an idea for how to get you home. Songs and tales travel faster than people.”

  “I didn’t think you liked music,” Gale said, sat, and stayed put. “You don’t happen to have a lute on this ship, do you? I could play you every song in my repertoire with one. Not as easy without an instrument.”

  “You could search the ship, but I wouldn’t know if its previous owners brought items like that with them. They didn’t care to invite me when they entertained each other.”

  “That’s a pity. I do—“

  “To them, I was the machine that kept their precious vessel in the air. A doll to play with. I’d hate for anyone to make that mistake again. I might lose my mind.”

  “We wouldn’t want that.” Gale laughed, begun to hum, and did her best to recall what ballad was most popular among those she’d sung at The Amiciers’ Rest.

  She’d often sung the same five songs about love, loss, pirates, adventure, wenches, and riches every night, but which was the most popular among those? She settled for the one that might appeal to Phoxene. An upbeat ditty about a race between two captains that hated each other.

  “Once, a conniving bastard of a man.” Gale resisted the urge to strum the lute she didn’t have with her. “Challenged this rat to a fight…”

  Phoxene listened attentively and hummed along once she caught onto how the notes fell in Gale’s rhythm. She’d not encountered anyone with such impressive recollection before, and for a moment, she worried Phoxene might really have recognized the ditty.

  “You know it?”

  “No,” Phoxene said. “I’ve never heard it in my life, yet it sounds very familiar when you sing it. If I believed in Rhabour, I’d claim I’d heard you before. Not the song.”

  “That’s because I become incredibly famous in the future.” Gale winked.

  “Oh, you will, will you?” Phoxene twirled a lock of her red hair between her fingers, and while she
didn’t smile, or show a lot of emotion, she chewed on her lip. “Should I make the effort to get on your good side before you’re too busy with everyone else clamouring for your attention then?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Gustfin

  Iorvil would not soon forget how Hymn had listened to her talk about Rhabour while they’d prepared dinner, and even though they hadn’t found whole plates for everyone, no one complained about sharing.

  Hymn had offered to share with Gale, but it soon became apparent that Gale would rather share with Phoxene. They’d become very friendly in no time at all. Iorvil didn’t know if she trusted the mage yet or not, but when she sat in the light of a lantern with Gale, she seemed harmless. She wasn’t screaming while carrying out orders in Thotrix’s name.

  “Tastes wonderful,” Hymn whispered, grabbed another piece of rabbit from the plate in between them, and ate. “I apologize for implying you couldn’t cook, Iorvil. You cook better than a certain someone I know.”

  “Thank you.” Iorvil smiled and watched Phoxene and Gale whisper to each other at the other end of the table much like they did. “You didn’t exactly imply it though. You said you were—“

  “You’re right. I apologize for my crass behaviour.”

  “Didn’t mean to make you apologize twice, Hymn.” Iorvil bit into the meat, savoured its strong flavour on her tongue, and regretted how they didn’t have potatoes or vegetables. She would have to raid the storage tomorrow and inspect what Thotrix’s servants had brought with them. In hindsight, she should have done that before she’d set out to hunt, but at least the hunt had been a success. “Your contribution made this a great meal.”

  “Wouldn’t the previous owners of this ship have packed supplies? Do they not do that in the empire?” Hymn asked. “If we cook together again, I can show you how to prepare some of the meals my mothers’ tavern is renowned for.”