“Have you been there?”
“Oh yes, both in the original city and in the resurrected disorder.” He chuckled. “No one can save that which doesn’t wish to be saved. Mortals do have free will.”
“Do you think we shouldn’t?” She frowned. “If I couldn’t think for myself, I’d follow my goddess. I wouldn’t have an interest in helping you or Iorvil.”
“How can you be so sure?” Rhabour poked the tip of his cane into her elbow. “If Furore had chosen Iorvil to be your true love, your one love, wouldn’t you have taken an interest in her faith? Wouldn’t you have helped?”
She tapped her foot against the dirt. “I guess. So I guess I don’t know if I have free will, or if it’s something you gods like to make mortals believe.”
“Who knows?” Rhabour leaned on his cane. “If you wish, we can have that philosophical discussion another day. Another time. Tonight, I wanted to show you what I am. I’m not strong enough to demonstrate my power to any greater extent in reality, but I can do it in this dream we share.”
He extended a bony hand in front of himself, twisted it against the sun, and caused familiar faces to rush across the streets, in and out of houses, at a speed that should be impossible. She recoiled when one elf walked straight through her. The sun and moon rolled past on the sky above, the god of time controlled the movement of night and day.
“Why?”
“Because I can?” Rhabour smiled, lowered his hand so everyone came to an abrupt crawl at once. “Because I’d like you to understand what you’re getting involved in. Love is a mercy compared to time. Love gives me meaning.”
“I’m not disagreeing.” She ruffled the hair of the nearest man, but he didn’t react. He kept walking slowly towards his destination. “I wanted love. Marriage. Children. Before Gale dragged me into this adventure of hers, I thought I could find someone dull to take as a husband, and the goddess would never notice my existence. Now I fear she watches my every move.”
“You might have angered her when you abandoned her for the first god that seemed a better alternative.”
“If Gale hadn’t been Gale, none of this would have happened. I would have lived my entire life in Caelora. I would have died satisfied.”
“Is that so?” Rhabour raised his hand again, twisted it in the other direction, and suddenly, everyone walked backward faster and faster until they whisked past her. “How far do you think we need to go to discover the truth?”
“The truth?”
Rhabour snapped his fingers. Caelora disappeared replaced by a familiar room from her childhood. Two beds stood on opposite sides of a window. Night reigned outside, a candle flickered on the windowsill.
Her heart sank in her chest when she heard Gale sobbing under the covers in the bed to the right of the window. They hadn’t shared a room since they’d been children. Hymn had found it unbearable to share a room with her, back then, because she would either stay up all night or steal her clothes. They hadn’t needed to share their dresses, but Gale didn’t listen. She’d loved to wear clothes Hymn had worn first.
“You may have lost this memory to time, but well…” Rhabour grinned at her, as if he’d thought of a brilliant joke. “I haven’t.”
She had many memories of her childhood with her twin, but few that fit this particular moment. They’d spent days and nights together. Uncountable hours had indeed been lost to time, but she still had Gale. She didn’t have to reminisce when her twin rarely ever left her side. She’d often felt like she wasn’t given space to breathe.
A younger version of her opened the door to the bedroom, hurried over to Gale without running, and sat down on the edge of her bed. “Mother says that you shouldn’t cry, and that I should apologize.”
Gale pulled the covers away from her head, blinked, and dried her eyes on her blankets even as tears continued to flow. Why couldn’t she remember this night? What had she done that had made Gale sad?
“No.” Gale sniffled. “Shouldn’t listen to me.”
“Your voice is… great,” the younger Hymn said, put her hands in her lap, and glared at the floor while she forced an apology that Hope must have helped her formulate. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you singing. I do when you do it at a reasonable hour, but this is the middle of the night. I can’t sleep.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hope said I should apologize first!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Now you’re saying it to tease me!”
“I’m not.” Gale hid behind her blankets. “Promise.”
“I love you, but you’re a dirty liar.”
“I’m not dirty.” Gale began sobbing loudly again. “And you don’t love me. You only say that because of Hope. You’d never talk with me if it wasn’t for your mother.”
The younger Hymn opened her mouth to speak, said nothing, and crawled across the bed to Gale. When she sat next to her twin, she threw her arms around her, hugged her a little too hard, and silenced her sobs.
“You’ll be a great singer, if you don’t sing while I sleep, and then I’ll be cheering for you like we cheered for that funny jester last week. Everyone will know your name, they’ll travel across the sea to hear you.”
“Really?”
“But only if you don’t sing while I sleep. Only then.”
While they made up and fell asleep in the same bed, Hymn understood why Rhabour had decided to show her these minutes from all the years they’d shared. They’d supported each through thick and thin, grown into women, yet to time this might be one of their most important moments. She may have forgotten it, but now she found it precious.
In a way, even if hadn’t occurred to her, she’d inspired Gale to become a greater nuisance. She had no one else to blame than herself. But what had she been supposed to do? Tear her twin down? All the time? No, she didn’t mind teasing Gale, but she didn’t want to break her spirit. She’d sooner injure herself.
“Seeds.” Rhabour snapped his fingers and transported them into the street once more. “While they may grow together, they may not stay in the same soil forever. If you dedicate yourself to time, you might part ways with your twin.”
“I’ve known there was a chance we’d split for years now.”
“If you do, there’s a chance you’ll not see each other again until you’re reborn, and if she’s a follower of love, she might not be reborn.” Rhabour laid a hand on her arm. “I don’t want you to have regrets about choosing me.”
“I...”
“I do though, cause then you’ll come crawling back to me!” Furore appeared out of nowhere and slammed her hands on Hymn’s shoulders.
She woke with a start, screamed in terror. It was far from the first time she’d stumbled upon the goddess in a nightmare, but she’d falsely believed Rhabour would protect her from her influence. If he wouldn’t do that, what did she gain on siding with him? She needed protection. They all did. Only a madman would side with love.
“A nightmare?” Gale poked her head up out of the hold and rubbed her eyes. “Hasn’t Iorvil chased those off?”
“Clearly not!”
“You don’t have to yell Hymn.” Gale climbed out of the hold, came over to her, and sat down to offer her a comforting hug. “I’m here for you, like I always said I’d be. If someone’s hurt you, I’ll hurt them.”
Hymn fell into her twin’s open arms, shut her eyes, and relaxed. Furore could hurt her, no doubt, but she was more afraid that she’d use her as a puppet. And what if she didn’t settle for toying with her? What if she went after Hope and Venviel again? Gale? Art?
“I don’t think I should spend time with Iorvil,” Hymn said. “I don’t want to know what love has in store for us. If I have free will, I’d sooner worship Rhabour on my own in Caelora.”
“She’d listen if you told her.” Gale yawned and seemed to doze off for a second or two. “And love can’t be as terrible as you make it out to be.”
“I don’t want to know how terrible it i
s.”
“I get it.”
Hymn could have sworn Gale fell asleep, while they hugged, until a loud crash resounded from one of the decks above, and Iorvil called their names.
Trivial
Iorvil had gone up to the top deck to consider what to do about Gale when a bright, glowing star fell out of the night sky and landed in the middle of the Gustfin with a crash that staggered her.
“Hymn, Phoxene, Gale!” She shouted and shielded her eyes from the intense light.
Her three companions soon rushed up on deck though Gale had forgotten to put on a shirt. She only wore underclothes and pants, but at least she’d brought her rapier. The bright glow faded somewhat from whatever had fallen out of the sky, yet no one was too eager to approach it.
“Empire mischief,” Phoxene muttered.
Iorvil would have agreed with her, but the bright glow vanished entirely, and a statue made of gold that was twice as tall as her stepped forth. Even among her brethren, she’d been taller than most, so it was a strange experience to stand at the foot of a woman that dwarfed her in size.
“Betrayal,” the golden statue said and pursed her lips. “An easy matter. Take the knife you’re given, stab it in your friend. Done. Who messes up betrayal?”
“We’d never betray each other,” Hymn said but couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Phoxene. Not for a second did she think her twin might have entertained the idea to betray them. Not for a second did she glance at Gale.
“The daft girl would have betrayed everyone if I’d not persuaded her with my tits.” Phoxene stated and glared at Hymn when she noticed her glances. “Thank me for saving your life and hopeless, little romance. If not for me, you’d die untouched.”
“Daft girl…?” Hymn repeated, as if she needed a moment to think on who their fifth member might be.
“I didn’t betray anyone in the end, goddess,” Gale said and stepped in front of her twin to shield her from the statue. “And I wouldn’t have betrayed Hymn either. At worst, I would have given up Phoxene. She’s—”
“Expendable?” Iorvil freed her axe from her belt, gripped the holy symbol around her neck, and did what she’d sworn to do after her fellow warriors had died taking the Gustfin. She shielded Phoxene by stepping between her, the statue, and the twins.
Gale looked at her with a mix of fear and amusement, but she’d called the statue goddess, so Iorvil had to assume the new arrival was the goddess of love. And that Gale would do whatever she asked.
She’d weakened herself when she’d been seduced by Hymn, and even if Hymn hadn’t been in on her twin’s betrayal, she ought to take responsibility. Or beg for forgiveness on her behalf, if Gale didn’t intend to do it. How could anyone expect her to trust either of them until they explained this?
“Iorvil?” Hymn took a step backward. Gale unsheathed her rapier from its scabbard. “What are you doing?”
“I’m protecting—“
“Squabbling.” The goddess groaned. “Mortals squabble. One god says this, one god says that, so you jump each other. Sometimes with swords, sometimes naked. Trite. Tiresome. Never-ending.”
“We—“
“Enough.” The goddess didn’t shout, yet the words echoed across the hills and spooked every nearby bird out of their nests. “I’ll put an end to Rhabour’s old war for Thotrix before his champion starts another.”
“I wouldn’t have killed anyone unless—”
Iorvil didn’t get a chance to finish. One second she stood on the deck of the Gustfin with the others, the next she found herself among barrels in a dusty warehouse somewhere. Sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the walls. The goddess had only transported Gale alongside her, and she still pointed her rapier at Iorvil.
“We don’t have to fight.” Iorvil lowered her axe.
“Don’t we?” Gale smirked. “I believe you planned to kill me and my twin, and I might sooner die than see you two reunited now.”
“You would have sold us all to the empire as slaves if your goddess had told you to.” Iorvil scoffed and hung her axe back in the belt around her waist. She could disarm Gale with her fists, if necessary. “Seems Hymn was correct, even if you’re a liar. Mentioning love does bring her down on your head.”
“That wasn’t love.”
“No?” Iorvil kept an eye on Gale while she stepped up to the nearest wall and searched for a crack large enough to give her a glimpse of the outside. “If it wasn’t love, who was it? Did you shout for every god to help you until one answered the call?”
“Fate.” Gale sheathed her rapier and approached the door on the opposite end of the warehouse. “And no, for your information, I did not seek her out. Fate came to me in a dream to tell me she would make me famous if I distracted the doll.”
“Why?” Iorvil looked through a crack the size of her thumb. She could tell they’d been transported through space yet again, but she’d been mistaken when she’d thought the light outside belonged to the sun.
Strong lanterns on metal rods illuminated the streets while women and men in exquisite browns and greys rode in carriages pulled by horses. She’d only seen the empire’s architecture a few times before, but she couldn’t mistake the rectangular buildings for anyone else’s. No one would build such dull towns on purpose. The buildings along the street all copied each other down to the smallest detail, yet Thotrix’s servants took great pride in their accomplishments.
“Don’t open the door!” She hissed at Gale when she remembered she wasn’t alone. “Your goddess left us in the middle of the empire.”
“Why would she do that?” Gale snorted but followed her example, found a crack in the warehouse wall, and pressed her face against it to look outside.
“If we didn’t kill each other, I imagine she expected Thotrix’s servants to finish us.”
Iorvil stroked the sharp edges of her axe, prayed Rhabour would forgive her for her failure. She could bust out into the streets, and cut down Thotrix’s servants one by one, but she wouldn’t get out alive. They would kill her, she would never let herself get captured alive. She would die like her brethren, and the god of time would die with her. At best, he might live on through Hymn or Phoxene, but she doubted it. She’d made such a horrible mistake when flirting with love that they would call it a sin in the future.
Moonlight Shadow
“Are you going to allow her to do whatever she wants?” Rhabour asked, lifted his furred head, and exhaled a plume of smoke through his nose.
The butterflies around him smattered their wings, died in the smoke, and reappeared out of the ground in the pink oasis. She wouldn’t mind creating a haven of her own on the moon, one day, if Rhabour gave her permission.
“To be fair, I thought I’d calmed Fate’s crazy heart.” Furore stroked her thighs and wondered when she’d next have the golden woman in her lap. “Thought I could contain the worst of her, but it seems her meeting with Thotrix loosened a couple of screws.”
“She’s not what I recall, but if she’s anything like she was a millennia ago, she will not relent.” Rhabour let out a long sigh. “She doesn’t have to bow to anyone when there’ll always be mortals who believe they can alter their destiny with their own two hands.”
“Shame about the free will, eh.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if Fate had given them that to shake things up.” Rhabour sounded ready to give up and pass on. “How can they bore her? They’re wonderful. I’ve met millions of them, yet someone always surprises me. The twins, for example.”
“They’re my creation.” Furore grinned, proudly.
“They’re the creation of your influence, but they’re not yours. They belong to their mothers, their village, and the years they’ve lived.”
“If you want to get needlessly specific.”
“You do have a splendid opportunity to assist them and bridge the divide between you.”
She scratched her head, tilted her head to the side. “Neither of them wants to follow me, any longer, a
s you ought to know. I don’t mind you stealing Hymn, by the way. If it’d give you the determination to carry on, I’d offer another thousand from Lho Allanar.”
“Are you solely the goddess of romantic love?”
“No?”
“There are ways to undermine other gods without them becoming wise of the fact.”
Rhabour gave her an idea, but Furore hadn’t truly leaned into the other aspects of love before. She reached out for Hymn and Gale, and while they may have preferred to guard their hearts from her influence, they’d left themselves open by loving each other. They shared a deep bond no other god could affect like she could.
She pictured their souls, their hearts, in front of her above the moon’s surface, and then she lifted a finger and drew a line between the two to give them what they should have had from the beginning. They would always be hers, regardless of how far they strayed from their origin.
For the Greater Good
Gale despised Iorvil. She may have a pretty face and bulging muscles, but she’d only used those to hide her true intentions. How could she ever leave Hymn alone with her again after she’d pulled an axe on them?
She didn’t care if Iorvil killed her. Yet if she as much as touched Hymn the wrong way, she’d headbutt her. She’d never impaled anyone on her horns, but if she angled them correctly, she figured she could. Of course, she had Venviel’s rapier too, but it wouldn’t be as personal to kill Iorvil with a blade compared to her horns.
“You could always beg your goddess for help again. If you convince her you’ll betray me, she might listen too,” Iorvil said, sarcastically, and flicked the medallion around her neck. “Thotrix will want all followers of Rhabour dead.”
“You’re the last, aren’t you? It seems like I could…” Gale trailed off when an invisible spike shot through her, left her reeling in pain, and made her aware of another’s presence within.
She swore she could hear Hymn’s voice, through the thuds of her heart, but she couldn’t discern the words her twin said. It sounded like they were uttered while she held her head underwater.
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