by Ethan Spears
“As for us, they couldn’t touch us directly with their power, but they made us anathema to the humans, who drove us from our lands and forced us back to this peninsula, where we survived thanks solely to the defensibility of the isthmus. We weren’t completely unscathed, however, for while the gods couldn’t kill us, they could revoke the blessings that they bestowed upon all creatures. Mostly, these blessings weren’t missed, but it was Caddimus who hurt us the most.”
“The Midwife,” said Aoden, already understanding what that meant.
Reggy nodded. “She who blesses all with children. She couldn’t stop us from breeding altogether, but our sudden lack of fertility meant we’ve been slowly dwindling away for millennia, and now we’re doomed to eventually die out as the last female of our race died over two thousand years ago.”
Aoden and Mergau were silent, meditating on the sorts of trials and tribulations Reggy’s people must have gone through over those countless years.
“Wait,” said Aoden. “Two thousand years? Reggy, how old are you, exactly?”
Reggy gave Aoden his slyest smile. “Just a bit over fifty-two hundred years old.”
“Reggy!” Aoden put a hand to his head. “This whole time I thought I was older than you! Five thousand years? Good gods! You’re an old man!”
Reggy laughed aloud. “So maybe I’ve been keeping a few more secrets.”
Mergau was bewildered, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “So then why are we here? What does this have to do with us?”
Reggy’s eyes twinkled. “There’s an old poem that I feel is pertinent here:
Will of a god,
Wrath of a god,
Strength of a god:
With these a mortal’s worried;
Blood of a god,
Bone of a god,
Steel of a god:
With these a god is buried.”
Mergau leaned forward. “You’re not answering my question: what does this have to do with us?”
“But I did answer it,” he said, looking emphatically at his two companions. “You said you wanted to stop the Fury, and I’m telling you how: with the blood of a god, the bone of a god, and the steel of a god, you can kill a god, and killing Kenta will put a damn quick stop to his plans.”
Chapter 27
Query and Answer
Aoden and Reggy trudged through the snow.
The three of them had talked long into the night, Reggy answering what questions he could, but every answer produced five new questions. He asked some of his own as well, piecing together a fractured picture of their quest and of Ezma’s interference. Aoden and Mergau had been persuaded to sleep only after the fire in the hearth was spent. They were awoken just after dawn and fed a meager fare of fruits and nuts. Once they finished, Reggy told Aoden to follow and Mergau to stay in the care of Cadalei until he returned.
Aoden thought they were merely going for a walk, but they had been hiking for hours through the forest. While the lizardfolk’s village had been chilly, as the land rose and the day wore on, the winds became bitterly cold and brought with them the snows of early winter. It was evident that this was not the first snow of the season in these lands.
As they walked, Aoden tried to ferret more information out of his friend, but whereas the night before he had been talkative, today he was equally reticent to divulge more, much to Aoden’s frustration.
Arbitrarily, Reggy came to a stop and gestured through the trees ahead of them. “If you keep moving south, you’ll find what you’re looking for soon enough.”
“Can’t you give me more information, Reggy?” Aoden asked, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Why are you so damned tight-lipped all of a sudden?”
Reggy offered an apologetic smile. “As I told you last night, the more you know, the more danger you’re in. There’s no need to put you under divine scrutiny right away.”
“I appreciate the thought, but how will I even know I’ve found what I’m looking for if I don’t even know what it is? Even the smallest scrap of information would help, Reggy.”
“Just remember the poem I recited last night and you’ll be fine.”
“The memorable parts of a poem are the rhymes, but the poem rhymed the least consequential information. It couldn’t be less helpful.”
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t take poetry pointers from you.”
Aoden made a noise of frustration. “You’ll have to give me something better than that if I’m going to wander out into these woods underdressed for the weather.”
Reggy exhaled sharply. “I’ve already told you that I won’t say anything more, so stop asking. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Please stop saying that. It’s about as helpful as you might expect.”
“Sorry, but that’s all you’re getting. My people have put themselves at risk already just pointing you in the right direction.”
“But the gods can’t touch you.”
Reggy scoffed. “What more can they do? We’re not worried about the gods anymore.” This only served to frustrate Aoden further. “Hey, cheer up: if what you told me last night is true and you’re meant to put a stop to this whole ‘Fury’ business, then surely you’re on the right path.”
“I often wonder,” Aoden said. “This wasn’t the path I wanted to be on, you know, right or not.”
“I wish you’d tell me what trouble you’ve seen.”
“It’s not something I want to relive. Just know it’s complicated and terrible for both Mergau and myself.”
“Now look who’s keeping secrets.”
Despite the cold and his own aggravation, Aoden found it hard not to smile. “Give my thanks to your people. Hopefully, I’ll return soon and have something to show for the effort.”
Reggy put out his arms, inviting a hug, which Aoden accepted. After a long moment, Reggy tried to shake him loose. “You need to get moving.”
“But you’re warm and I’m cold. I thought lizards were cold-blooded.”
“We’re not snakes! Honestly, I don’t know where you get all these weird ideas about lizardfolk.”
“I’ll see you again soon.” Aoden released his friend, and they turned away from one another. Reggy started his return trek north, and Aoden wandered southwards, wondering what he was expected to find.
***
Reggy returned in an uncharacteristically somber mood. He grabbed a cup of what passed for wine to the lizardfolk, raised it to Mergau, and said, “Here’s to hoping I didn’t just kill my friend.” He downed the cup straight away and refilled it. “Here’s to not having killed him thus far.” He downed it again, filled it once more, and went to sit with her. “And how are things going over here?”
The answer was ‘not well,’ but Mergau couldn’t supply it. She sat with her legs crossed on the floor with her eyes closed tight, her breathing heavy and uncomfortable. She wore an angry look and was shaking from some unseen effort. Reggy sniffed and sipped at his wine—little better than frozen berries fermented in their own rot—and watched.
Mergau was aware of him but knew she shouldn’t be. Cadalei was in her head, trying to overwhelm her mind. This was apparently some sort of test, and she resisted, but it was easier said than done. In the past hour alone, she had been completely overpowered three times, and this fourth was going no better. She was focusing her mind on her magic to force the encroaching power away, but it pushed through with ease every time. Cadalei didn’t offer any insight or pointers—not that she would have understood him if he did—and her powers had weakened from repeated attempts and failures, making resistance impossible.
Reggy put a hand on her arm and his voice reverberating in her head. “Cadalei,” he said. The offense on her mind ceased abruptly. “It’s time to discuss matters. Come to Mergau’s room.”
Cadalei responded in their lizard tongue and the energy dispersed. It felt like a headache receding all at once and Mergau gasped with relief, though she still looked annoyed with Reggy.
“I was—”
“No, you weren’t,” Reggy interrupted. “It’s expected that you will fare poorly for a while. You still have no combat experience to speak of, nor a mind particularly suited for it if Cadalei’s analysis is correct, which it is.”
Mergau unfolded her legs and stood, rubbing her forehead. “He simply started. Your people have no courtesy, Reggy. They don’t knock, they don’t get permission before doing things with me, they explain nothing.”
“It’s a different culture,” Reggy agreed. “I assure you that I shall remain as courteous as I am able, but I doubt my brother will understand or appreciate the need.”
“And I don’t like them being in my mind. I can tell they’re poking through my thoughts and memories and that’s absolutely not okay. I can’t even tell them to stop.”
Reggy swirled the content of his cup with a finger. “Speaking of thoughts and memories and you and Aoden,” he segued terribly.
She looked over at him. She still wasn’t familiar with lizardfolk expressions, but she suspected she was now the victim of an accusatory stare. She sighed. “They’ve told you, haven’t they?”
He sipped at his wine. “That depends on if you mean the whole ‘trying to kill my friend’ thing. Because if you mean that, then yes, as soon as I returned. Otherwise—”
“Gods,” she said. “No appreciation for privacy either, these people.”
“Not as defensive a response as I would’ve liked.”
“Look, Aoden and I have already had this discussion. He already knows what my intentions were, and he knows what they are now. If I wanted to kill him, he’d be dead.”
“Except you did, and he’s not.” She gave him a disgusted look. “There’s no reason to be ashamed of being the kind of person who is unwilling to kill. Most people would consider that a good thing.”
“Well, I don’t. Orcs live hard, short lives and have dominion over a handful of resources. An orc that is unwilling to kill protecting their lands is an orc that starves.”
“And yet you cursed Aoden and the elves for protecting their lands and slaughtering your clan.”
Mergau sat back down and crossed her arms. “You’ll say anything to make a point, won’t you?”
Reggy made a helpless gesture. “Halfling habit I picked up. Is it good or bad? I don’t know. Apologies for offense, of course, but you must at least admit to your double standard.”
“You don’t sound as angry about it as I thought you might,” she said.
Reggy shrugged, fatigued from more than just his long walk. “You know, I’m a bit hurt that Aoden felt like he couldn’t share this with me. I understand that partially it was to spare you from whatever ire he thought might arise within me, but also I think discovering my ruse damaged the trust in our friendship more than he cares to admit.”
“Your relationship seemed the same to me,” she said.
Reggy nodded. “It would. It’s a subtle change, I think. Or I’m imagining it. Still, I worry about him a lot. When you two left my home, I was terrified for his safety, truth be told. He’d taken a great risk upon himself at my suggestion, and I doubted I’d forgive myself had something terrible happened to him.
“Had I known then that you intended to kill my friend, I wonder what I would’ve done. I don’t think I’d have healed you. A part of me wishes I had the deliberate and iron will of a warrior, then perhaps I’d have the mettle to kill you to protect him, but I don’t. Knowing me, I’d have just told Aoden in secret and let him handle the situation as he saw fit. I dislike the idea of people coming to harm, but I suppose sometimes that’s the only option.”
He put down his cup. “I think I hid it well, but I was ecstatic when I saw you both alive and well. I wish that moment could’ve lasted instead of being ruined by my secret, for I thought there was a real chance that—in trying to save you, a complete stranger—I had sent you both to your deaths. The relief at the sight of you was nearly overwhelming. My plan seemed a wise course of action at the time. In hindsight, it was probably just cowardice.” He was quiet a moment, then added wistfully, “I’m really going to miss my house, though. And my lovely neighbors. And real wine.”
Mergau frowned. She didn’t care for his self-deprecation, but she also didn’t want to reassure him falsely when she wasn’t sure of the truth herself. Instead, she said, “Does it matter? We were led here by my teacher’s deliberate actions. You were goaded into helping us as you did, remaining ignorant of our history. Guessing what could have happened otherwise is pointless.”
Reggy chuckled. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”
Cadalei opened the door and entered without knocking (as usual, to Mergau’s annoyance). He exchanged a few words with Reggy and went to wait by the open door. Reggy stood and gestured to Mergau. “Follow. We need to talk, and there’s something that we need to show you.”
***
Aoden stopped and pressed himself against a tree, straining his ears. Voices drifted through the forest, distant and muffled. He looked around to spot the source, but the trees were too tightly packed to see far.
He moved from his tree to another nearby, towards where he estimated the speakers were. He moved again, closer, then closer still. A sudden chuk rang out, causing him to freeze. He thought he recognized the sound, an old sound he used to hear often. He advanced cautiously.
There was a flash of movement ahead. Aoden ducked out of sight. There was a shout, the sound of steel on wood, and a grunt.
“Come on, hold the shield up properly,” a voice chided. Aoden’s heart skipped a beat, and he thought he was hearing things.
“I don’t wanna,” another voice said. “It’s scary.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” the other voice said. “All you have to do is block.”
“It’s hard. This shield’s heavy and your swings hurt my arm.”
“It’ll hurt a lot more if you don’t hold the shield right, so get it right.”
“Stop!”
There was another clash as Aoden approached a small clearing. He knelt by a tree, melting into the shadow and watching.
In the clearing were two boys.
Two human boys.
Gods, when was the last time he had seen a human child? And what were two of them doing here of all places? Was this some sort of illusion? Was his mind playing tricks on him?
But they looked very real. They had heads full of curly black hair freckled faces, looking so alike they had to be brothers. One, clearly the older of the two, had a short sword, barely five hands in length, but he held it with both hands, wielding it like a claymore. Given that the boy looked scarcely a teenager, and an exceptionally skinny one as well, it was no surprise that he could barely lift the thing. The younger held a wooden shield, its front banded with steel. It had some design painted on the front but was so badly abused that the sigil was unrecognizable. As Aoden watched, the older boy struggled to get the sword over his head, bringing it down on the younger boy’s shield, nearly losing balance in the attempt.
“I want to stop, Jon,” said the shield-bearer, looking over the rim as his brother caught his breath. “What if you miss and hit me?”
“I won’t miss,” Jon huffed. “I just need something to swing at that isn’t a tree.”
“If I can’t even move, how’s it any different?”
“Just shut up and hold the shield.”
Aoden circled around the clearing as the boys argued, looking for signs of other humans nearby, but there weren’t any. The only tracks were two sets of small ones leading into the clearing. They had come from the southwest, but there was nothing he could see in that direction to suggest other people, not even a path that the boys could have followed to get here.
He moved back to the north side of the clearing, wondering what to make of these children. Was that what he was sent to find? Humans? But then how was Reggy’s poem supposed to come into play?
“Ow! You hit too hard!”
The
older brother cursed. “You’re still not holding the shield right! It’s not my fault.”
“I’m done. I’m not helping you anymore.” The younger one dropped the shield on the ground and stomped back towards their tracks, thrusting low-hanging branches out of his way as he left the clearing.
“Hey, come on, Arin!” the older one shouted, chasing after him. “Get back here! Don’t go off into the woods on your own!”
The voices and footsteps retreated. Aoden listened for a moment, making sure they weren’t turning back, then slid from his hiding place. He walked into the clearing and over to where the shield had been left on the ground. It had fallen face down. He flipped it over and examined the sigil.
The front side of the shield was incredibly ragged, being chipped and nicked where dozens of sword strikes had landed on it. Frankly, it was surprising the thing was still in one piece: this cheap wooden shield wasn’t designed to take that many blows. The older boy was lucky he hadn’t split the wood from one of his swings and cut the younger in two. If it weren’t for his pathetic swings and the steel band around the edge keeping the whole thing together, that just might have happened.
As for the sigil, the paint was missing anywhere the shield had taken damage, though most seemed to have flaked off on its own from general aging. Whatever they had used to paint the shield was some makeshift goo that looked like it was rotting, likely made of fruit or other food material judging from the smell. The few flakes of paint that remained stuck to it were watery blue and a dreary yellow.
Blue and yellow, he thought. Where do I recognize those colors from? It had been so long since his time among the humans that the sigils and coat-of-arms of the many keeps, cities, and governors were foggy to him at best, but he could still remember some of the major ones.
And Azurcourt, whose colors were blue and yellow, was a major city.
He looked to the bottom-right quadrant, looking for some sign of the hydra that was their symbol, rubbing his thumb over the surface to scrub off some of the accumulated dirt and mud, but it was no use. Even knowing what to look for, nothing was recognizable in the scattered collection of paint chips and nicks that remained.