“You have my word, just us.” But he was staring out the window and there was an odd determination in his face. She frowned, and when he noticed his face cleared at once. “Go pack, Abby. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Chapter Twenty-six: Creation
It took them the rest of the day to learn to strike the stones to spark a fire, though there were plenty of leaves and twigs from the willow tree to act as tinder. Eve shivered from the cold so violently her teeth chattered even after the fire was lit, and Reu pulled her against his body, using the robes for blankets, but it was still a long time before the heat of the fire and Reu’s warmth allowed her to stop shaking.
Somehow, the light made the dark around them more intense, blacker and unbearable. She closed her eyes against it, but flames still licked behind her eyelids, and she thought it must be because Reu stared into the fire.
“I thought Adam was exaggerating when he said we would die,” she mumbled between shudders in the cold.
Reu sighed and tucked her head beneath his chin. “You can’t die from the cold, Eve. Or anything else that might threaten you outside of the Garden. Not before your time.”
She clung to his body. “But you can.”
“Yes.” He stroked her hair. “But I don’t think I’ll die if the angels intend for us to lead. I don’t think they would have said so if they foresaw my death from the cold.”
“They’re frightening enough to behold without the power of foresight. Even with the fruit, I’m not sure I understand God’s intent for them.”
He laughed softly. “The angels are not of the world, Eve. But they are concerned with it. Now that God is dead, it will be Michael’s responsibility to preserve creation and God’s laws on earth. I’m surprised we escaped unscathed by them for our sins. Michael does not usually stop to consider the reasoning behind the acts. Perhaps that changed with God’s death as well.”
“If God was so powerful, how could He have let Himself die?”
He was quiet for a long moment, and she could follow the ideas in his mind, the possibilities. Perhaps God had not died, truly. Perhaps he had merely dispersed Himself among his creation and his people. Reu rejected the idea almost at once that God had given his power to Eve, to make of her a new Goddess, though he did not doubt there was something more in her than simple humanity. But God did not walk among them anymore, that was certain, and the angels did not behave as he had expected they should.
“I don’t know. There is still so much beyond my understanding. I don’t think we’re meant to understand the mystery of God.”
“Do you think Adam knows?”
“It’s unlikely. But he often walked with Elohim, and we were not privy to their conversation. Clearly he knew what waited for us outside the safety of the Garden, though he had never been here himself.”
She shivered. “I had thought to leave him behind, but it seems he’ll follow us here, too.”
Reu pressed his lips against her forehead. “Don’t worry about that yet. Sleep, for now, Eve. Tomorrow will be difficult enough without borrowing from the future.”
Sometime in the night, Eve woke to the sound of a great roaring, her heart racing. Reu crouched near the fire, his hand wrapped tightly around a thick brand. He was alert, and his face was grim. The roar was followed by an inhuman scream that made her stop breathing altogether with a gasp, but Reu’s calm was infectious. He relaxed at the second noise and came back to her, murmuring reassurance and stroking her hair until she fell to sleep.
Eve woke first the next morning, and built the fire back up. It was only after she had tended to it that she saw the carcass on the bank of the stream. A gazelle, its neck bent so far it touched its own back. She knew at once it was dead, and that it had made the scream she had heard in the night. She thought of what Reu had said, about the animals here living off one another, and her stomach cramped with hunger.
A leg had been torn off the animal, and the belly opened. Pieces of entrails littered the mud, along with paw prints larger than her hand. She stared at them, frozen with fear. If the beast which had done this had found them before the deer, would she be staring at Reu’s body in pieces now? His stomach devoured, his leg ripped from his body?
She retched in the grass, though there was nothing in her stomach but bitter acid. After rinsing her mouth with water from the stream, Eve forced herself to look back at the carcass again. Whatever creature had done this, it had fed, and perhaps the gazelle would feed them, too. She took one of the stones that Michael had given them, the one with the sharpest edge, and carved pieces of meat from the bones, taking them back to the fire and setting them on the rocks to warm. The meat sizzled on the hot stones, and her mouth watered at the scent.
She cleaned the blood and gore from her hands at the stream, and the rock she had used as a blade. A feeling that she was being watched shivered down her spine, but when she glanced back at Reu, he was still asleep. The feeling intensified, with a great sense of curiosity. Golden eyes blinked at her for just a moment, on the other side of the river, but when she looked again they were gone, and it was only golden grasses waving in the wind.
She went back to the fire and flipped the meat to brown the tops. The sizzling must have woken Reu, because he sat up, blinking for a moment and rubbing his face before coming to sit beside her. His gaze went to the carcass, then back to the meat. He didn’t ask what she was preparing, but she felt his understanding.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
She squatted near the fire with her arms wrapped around her knees. The morning was still cool, and her skin prickled with small bumps.
“As well as I could.” She nodded to the kill. “Whatever did that was very large. It left prints in the mud.”
“It sounded like a lion.” His expression was grim as he stared into the flames, and she picked the image of the animal from his mind easily. Large and tawny, with claws and teeth she wouldn’t want near her skin. “The fire kept it away, but I don’t know how long that will save us. We should find shelter. Some caves would be best, with fresh water nearby.”
She looked out over the grasses, the same color as the animal’s coat, and shivered. “I don’t think I want to spend another night in the open, either. Fresh water, or not.”
He picked up a piece of the meat, tossing it back and forth in his hands awkwardly. “I never thought to eat the flesh of anything but fruit. Perhaps we should take the fur from the animal before we go. It might help to keep you warm at night.”
“Even the beast that killed it didn’t leave it naked in death.” She pulled her own piece from the fire and nearly dropped it at once, it was so hot.
Reu caught it before it landed in the grass and tossed it back to her. “I think it would be better to use what we can than to leave it to waste away.”
“Perhaps.” She blew on the meat, repeating his awkward movements until it was cool enough to handle, and then took a tentative bite. It was tough and chewy, but the taste was surprisingly mild, even pleasant.
He took a bite of his own, and she watched his face as he chewed and swallowed. “We’ll try to reach the other side of the grassland. There should be caves at the foot of the mountain that we can take shelter in. Perhaps we can forage along the way.” But he frowned at the grasses around him. There wasn’t much to forage from. “The cave should keep us warmer than we were out in the open.”
She shivered again. The feeling of being watched hadn’t gone away. But there were too many creatures around them. More animals than she could count, impugning on her consciousness. She shook her head to clear her mind, but it didn’t help.
“Are you well, Eve?”
She pressed her hand to her temple. “There’s so much here. Whatever power God gave me, it seems to be growing stronger. I can feel so much.”
He took her hand and brought it to his face, looking into her eyes. “What do you feel from me?”
Heat flooded her cheeks as a warmth blossomed in her stomach. She pulled
her hand away, dropping her eyes to the grass. His want, his love, made her feel lightheaded, and she remembered the images from Adam’s mind, of their bodies joined together. “I don’t know how to be a wife, Reu.”
He ducked his head to look into her eyes again. “I don’t know how to be a husband, either. But I’m willing to try. To love you and protect you and bring you joy. If you’ll have me.”
His eyes were dark, and his love washed over her like a river. And when he touched her, she didn’t want to pull away. When he lifted her face and brought his lips to hers, it was nothing like that first kiss from Adam. It was soft and gentle, kind and questioning.
She parted her lips in invitation, and while he kissed her, the rest of the world disappeared. All she felt was his love, his desire, his joy, feeding her own like the leaves fed the flame. And in that moment, she knew who she had been made for, and God’s plan for her life. She did not belong to Adam, for from her first moments she had been bound to Reu by his love.
Eve pressed him back into the grass, her senses filled with the warmth of his body, the touch of his skin against hers. She pressed him back and kissed him again as his arms wrapped around her, drawing her in. For the first time, the images of the man and woman, bodies joined, made her shiver with anticipation instead of dread.
Reu stroked her hair, weaving his fingers through it so gently she thought she imagined the touch. She rested her forehead against his, her heart racing in her chest. She could feel his, too, thudding hard beneath her palm.
“Will you show me, Reu?” She asked softly, remembering his words. It seemed so long ago that he had spoken them. “Show me how this is meant to be.”
Oh, she cried, mind and body both in exultation. Reu’s love washed over her, through her entire being, faster and more powerful than the river current. It was more eloquently spoken than any vow.
My love, his thoughts echoed through hers with his body’s release. My wife.
Chapter Twenty-seven: 218 BC
War. The Romans never had their fill of it, and in spite of himself, Thor found himself in sympathy with Adam, an elderly advisor to the Carthaginian general, Hannibal. If it were not for the House of Lions, caught in the middle and ripe for the raiding by both sides, he would have wished them all good fortune and ignored the mess of it. As it was, he had taken the high ground of a mountain, watching the movements of any soldiers who strayed too near. Carthaginians, Romans, even Gauls and Celts, all looking for the path of least resistance across the Alps.
And not for the first time. The entire region had been in turmoil for the last forty years at least, and before it had been Adam urging Carthage to war against Rome, it had been Pyrrhus, attacking from the East. Thor was certain the only reason Pyrrhus of Epirus had done so well in his own battles was because of Eve, born as his daughter Olympias. Athena had taken pity on Thor, in spite of her own wishes, and granted the king her favor, and no matter how heavy the losses, Pyrrhus still rose triumphant in the end, keeping Olympias from falling into ruin for her father’s ambitions. Eve had even ruled for a time, before she had watched both her sons die, then she had seen Deidamia, her granddaughter, made queen, before pretending her own death and retiring west, back to her Lions. Into the heart of more war and far too near to Adam, no matter how aged they both were.
“Have you seen her?” Athena asked. He had noted the owl soaring over the marching columns, but lost track of her in the passing clouds. Of course Athena would be present, just as Tanit was sure to be present among the Carthaginians, being that city’s patron goddess, and goddess of war as well.
Thor lifted a shoulder, neither confirmation nor denial, though he would much rather have pretended a lack of understanding. Athena deserved better after everything she had done, and he would not treat her dishonestly. Not that what he had seen of Eve was worth mentioning in much detail. He did not dare show himself, or risk drawing Sif’s attention, and to have her so near, on his own lands, and be unable to know her at all.…
It was one more reason he hated this war. And he still would not speak to Sif, though he had taken care to spend time with Ullr and Thrud, bringing them both to Egypt, then Olympus. Whatever happened between himself and Sif, he would not have the children they had raised together believe he had turned from them.
“I did not even think of Adam in Carthage when she left us,” Athena confessed, coming to stand beside him on the rocky precipice. “I only hoped she would be safe enough with her family.”
“So she is,” Thor agreed. “You were kind to send me word. There are times I wish the House of Lions was not so near to the North Lands, with the Celts gossiping like Norns between us. Loki seems to hear every rumor of even the slightest events.”
“Do they know yet that Zeus granted you these lands?”
Thor shook his head. “The boundary is so ill-defined, they take no notice, assuming it is some patch of Gauls worshipping Woden and Donar.”
“And when they learn of it, what then?”
He grunted. If Rome won this war, they would expand, swallowing the Alps and driving the Celts and the Gauls north. When that day came, there would be no hiding his work so far south.
“I will do what I must to protect them, Athena. As I have sworn.”
She sighed, her gray eyes softening with something near pity. “And what will you do for yourself, Thor? Even on Olympus, we know the break in your marriage has not healed. Yet you remain Sif’s husband, still.”
He pressed his lips together. It was not as though he had not considered it. After that night in Olympus, he had returned home, ready to finish it all. But Sif had been prepared, waiting, ready, and when he had found her, she had smiled. A smug and cruel expression that made his blood run cold. Heimdall had appeared a moment later, catching Baldur at the door, and then together they had both turned to look at him, faces grim.
Baldur had shoved through the milling gods and servants to reach him, and Thor ducked his head to listen to the news his brother brought so urgently.
“Famine,” Baldur said. “Thorgrim’s fishing village starves, and what stores they had for trade were burned to the ground. Heimdall says it was Sif. He said she told the people of the village that they must pray to you if they wished for deliverance.”
Thor did not take his gaze from his wife, his vision hazing, but Sif had only smiled wider.
The message had been clear. Leave her, and she would turn all who looked to him, everything he loved and nourished, into dust. This was her warning.
Thor had left the hall without a word. He had not dared to waste a moment in seeing to the village, to Owen’s people, his own family. And when he found them, it was worse. She’d sickened them, too. Wasting diseases that lasted months, or even years, all of them miserable with suffering. And Owen’s line—every direct descendant of Eve’s son was struck down.
If he acted against her, he had no doubt that the next time, she would kill them. And the time after that, when she noticed the House of Lions, it would be the same again. He had no power to protect any people against disease, and there would be no proving Sif had acted so cruelly. Perhaps he had done the House of Lions a disservice, claiming them; were they beholden to Zeus, Sif could not harm them.
“If she loved you once, it does not seem she cares for anything but herself now,” Athena said gently, touching his arm. “You deserve better, Thor.”
“It is not so simple as what I deserve.” A god protected his people, or what good was he? He would not turn on those who looked to him, abandon them for his own gain. “The Covenant will not protect the House of Lions. I am not certain it protects even Eve, herself.”
“And if I promised you she would have my protection? That we would not let Sif or Loki harm her? I would even help your House of Lions, if you wished it, to see you made free, and I am certain Bhagavan and Ra would guard Eve as well, if it is needed.”
He met her eyes then, and brushed a stray tendril of dark hair from her pale cheek. He could never have asked
it of her, and now she offered it so easily, without thought to the pain it might bring her. For his sake.
“You deserve more than what I might give you, Athena.”
She smiled sadly, pressing his hand to her cheek, and then turned her face to kiss his palm. “Think on it, Thor. At least promise me that.”
He let his hand fall away. “You have my word.”
Tanit guided Hannibal’s army through a pass further north, and Athena forced the Romans back when they strayed too near the House of Lions, but the Celts, allied with Hannibal, felt no such restrictions, and more than once, Thor had been forced to defend the lands he had claimed as his own. Fortunately, the Celts traveled often enough with the Gauls, and once his own people recognized his signs, they urged their companions away, begging forgiveness.
Thor granted it, of course, and when he could, blessed them with clear skies and an easy journey. Obedience should never be left unrewarded, and the work he did turned more hearts to the Aesir. Odin could have no complaints, and Thor was careful to return home each night, even if he did not stay longer than it took to make his presence known.
“Father would see you, Thor,” Baldur said, catching him on his way into Odin’s hall. “Let Tyr go to guard our people this night.”
“Better if it is you,” Thor said. He did not dare ignore his father’s summons, but nor would he send the Norse god of war so near the House of Lions. Tyr would send the Gauls to sack the rich settlement without a thought. But Baldur he might trust not to abuse an innocent people. His brother would not attack a party that had taken no side. Athena, I must send a brother in my place.
Baldur smiled, gripping his shoulder in reassurance. “If that is what you wish, I will see they are treated justly in your absence.”
I will meet him, and care for your Lions, she answered. Do what you must.
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