by Liv Savell
“Soon,” Enyo promised, brushing her free hand over his hair, flattening and making it lay against his skull rather than stick up all over the place.
“Does he miss me when he is gone?” Mascen asked, dark eyes wide as he stared at Enyo’s face. Reading her. He understood emotions far better than she did at times. Another gift from Va'al.
“Why would he not?” Enyo reasoned, ignoring the priests and priestesses who bowed as she passed. It seemed her question stumped Mascen, and he quieted as they entered the temple proper. By the time she reached the set of rooms they used when visiting the temple, Enyo was able to lay a sleeping Mascen down on his cot lined with furs. She arranged his limbs carefully and brushed away stray locks of red hair.
Finally, she wrapped him in a pelt and kissed the top of his head, inhaling the scent that was distinctly and utterly his. She would know it for the rest of time. There was nothing more soothing than the smell of her sleeping child. The First Child. Her son.
“Enyo… Enyo?”
The Goddess whipped her head around, focusing her gaze on Va’al, on today’s Va’al, trapped in the body of a mortal man. She had been so engrossed in the memories of earlier times, she had not noticed him calling her name. He beckoned ahead.
“We’re here.”
They stood before the archway of a great, stone wall, creamy limestone blocks fitted together as closely as interlocking fingers. Beyond, many of the buildings were comprised of the same stone with wood doors or window frames painted in bright blues to honor Esha.
“The city has grown,” Enyo muttered, annoyed to see how well Esha’s followers had thrived. Everywhere she looked, there were people—healthy, smiling, talking people. Most were of darker tones like Esha, but plenty had the island’s coppery notes or the fairer ones of the far north. Children were always underfoot, and it seemed as if every woman she spotted was huge with child.
With her injured hand wrapped in bandages to keep it hidden from sight, Enyo strolled alongside Va'al, ignoring Maoz’s brooding silence at their back. He would not be sated until he had blood. She knew the beast well enough to know that much. When he was in a rage, there was nothing to be done besides unleashing him on his foe. Of course, a rut wouldn’t hurt his mood, but he didn’t seem interested in sniffing at these females. Strange.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. A Goddess who teaches her people to fuck constantly would have a large following. It's nearly clever. Her disciples would grow as they procreated.“ She cast Va'al a narrowed glance. Had it actually been his idea? It seemed more like him to plan like that.
“Don’t look at me.” Va'al turned away from Enyo and back to the swath of people around him. “She loved adoration just as much as you did—do.”
The Misfit God led them through the streets with the ease of long practice, for all that they had changed tremendously since the old days. The temple itself still stood in the center of the city, high above the squat buildings of homes and shops, its windows filled with colored glass depicting scenes from when the world was new. “So, how do you suppose we get them to show us the artifact?” he asked as they neared the structure.
“Simple. Prove you’re a God and tell them we intend to bring Esha back. Clearly, they love her and would rejoice at her return,” Enyo drawled, her mood foul as they stared up the steps of Esha’s temple. It was not only fully intact but well maintained—not like Va’al’s ruin or Enyo’s decaying monument. Perfect. The building was perfect. Every tile on the roof in place, the walls straight and proud. Bile rose in her throat, and Enyo had the disgusting experience of swallowing it back down. It tasted acrid and reeked of her own desperation.
She needed Esha and Ruyaa to come back so she could get her body back, to survive. To deal with Mascen. Yet her jealousy knew no bounds as she saw how Esha’s followers thrived and remembered her. This was not some forgotten village or a scattering of temples, but an entire city! And it was thriving.
“Then let’s go,” Moaz growled behind them.
⚀
“Works for me.” Va'al shrugged and led the way into the temple. At first, it wasn’t clear which of the attendants they should speak to—there were just too many of them, and all seemed to be scurrying on official business.
But, Va'al had never had a hard time making himself known when he needed to. The God, blond hair lank and skin grubby with travel, grabbed the first important-looking attendant to come near and pulled her from the rest of the crowd. “Excuse me, but it is vital that we speak with your high priestess.”
The girl looked at him askance, one eyebrow raised nearly to her hairline.
And then, Va'al smiled.
“We’re important visitors,” he told her soothingly, watching her expression falter and change. “Your temple leaders will want to meet with us.”
Another moment was enough to suffice, and then the girl was nodding. “I’ll take you to one of the side chambers to wait.”
Va'al turned to the others and raised his brows, giving a little mock bow as she led the way.
Maoz only grunted and strode into the chamber presented. Enyo rolled her eyes, unamused with Va'al’s antics today. It took some minutes, but two officials entered, an acolyte following with a tray of food and drinks. The acolyte set the tray down and hurried from the room, casting wondering glances their way.
Perhaps they could sense Enyo, Va'al, and Maoz. Perhaps they knew how different the Gods were, even in mortal bodies.
The priest was in his forties, with pale skin and a moon-shaped face. His dark hair was trimmed short, and Va’al could see silver starting at the temples. The priestess was a younger woman, in her prime, her belly round with child. She was lovely, with skin so dark it was nearly blue and matching eyes. Her teeth, when she smiled graciously at them, were a stark contrast. Her face tattoo, Esha’s mark, was difficult to make out against her ebony skin. The ink marked both officials as high priests.
The woman folded her hands over her belly. Maoz, though still sullen, had calmed. He watched her with the stillness of a predator waiting for prey.
“Esha’s blessings, friends,” she greeted, voice deep and musical. “I am Priestess Maya, and this is my brother, Priest Arawn. How may we help you?”
Ah, yes. Va’al had forgotten the tendency of Esha’s people to consider everyone family.
He leaned back, considering the mismatched pair and nibbling on the food they had brought with them, deliciously spiced tidbits—nothing like the plain fair that made up travel rations. Once he was back in his body and Mascen was dealt with, Va'al swore on each and every one of the Cursed Realms that he would never go traveling through the wilderness again. Never step foot off a road or out of a city.
Now, he had only to convince these people that he and his companions were the Gods of Old returned to them in the guise of human bodies. Should be easy enough. Right?
He considered them for a moment more, then began with a question: “Has anyone in Gwynhafan come bearing news of the destruction just north of here? A swath of Rhosan is burning.”
The priestess shared a glance with her “brother” that was both assessing and worried. So they had heard.“Disturbing news indeed has come from the north. Fires and buildings collapsing. Have you come from there, traveler?” The hand on her belly contracted, clutching, though she was the braver of the two.
Maoz shifted, eyes unblinking.
“Worse, sister,” Va'al said, his eyes and voice sorrowful, “we met the source of the destruction.”He made a show of setting down the food as though the thought of what they had seen disturbed him so that he could not eat, could do nothing but relive it. “This destruction was caused by a relic of times past, a child of the Old Gods named Mascen. The three of us faced him in battle, and though he got away, only one of us was injured.” Va'al gestured towards Enyo and her damaged arm. “We believe that we will be successful in stopping him, but only if there are others like us. Old Gods in human Vassals.”
“Why would a
God deign to be housed in a human?” Priest Arawn asked. For his part, he only sounded curious. It did seem a bit ridiculous, what with Alphonse’s frail form and Gethin’s soft-cheeked smile beneath a mop of curls. “Forgive me, brother. This is a bit much to believe.”
“Once,” Va'al said, standing so that he was of a height with the two priests, “it would have been easy to convince you. I would have slid into the shadows, disappeared before your eyes…” He took a step closer, grinning widely. “If you were lucky, that is. Else I might have even taken you with me. There are dark, in-between places left in this world where mortal souls ought not tread.”
He patted the priest’s cheek. “In those days, I knew Esha well. Fathered four of her seven children when she was not scolding me about the little tricks I pulled. Tricks that could leave mortals like you mindless and mute…”
Of course, he could still play with their minds. He’d done it to Etienne, hadn’t he? Weeks and weeks of slow grinding until the boy was so broken that he left Alphonse in her darkest moment. And now, he need not hide his interference, need not take his time.
“Would you like me to break your mind?” he asked the priestess, voice dripping with honey. Her head was a platter spread out before him, colored with unease and suspicion. He wiped these away with a thought, encouraged adoration and enthusiasm so that when she responded, it was eager.
“Oh, yes please!” she said, smiling beneath full eyes. Va'al just caught the priest’s shudder.
“Do you believe me now?” He stepped back, yanking his influence from the woman’s mind as he went.
Priestess Maya gaped at Va'al in open bafflement while her male counterpart only looked confused, trying to understand why she would be so agreeable to having her mind addled. Priest Arawn opened his mouth to protest the absurdity of this entire scene as Va'al’s eyes flickered to focus on him instead of the priestess.
Va'al sighed. So Priest Arawn was one of the slow ones, unable to quite grasp what was going on. Instead of trying to change the man’s mind, Va'al just turned towards him and… opened it. “Do you know what just happened?” the Misfit God asked, clasping Arawn on the shoulder. “Do you know what I just did?”
Slowly, the man nodded, his eyes darkening in horror. Va'al loved that moment, loved it when the mortals realized that their innermost sanctum, the one place they thought they could not be reached, was no longer safe.
Va'al clapped him on the back. “Cheer up! We’ll be on our way as soon as we’ve brought Esha back to help us.”
“Bring her back?” Priestess Maya asked, startled enough that she forgot herself for a moment. Fear colored her features, and hastily she knelt, a clumsy maneuver given her size. Maoz hissed under his breath.
The priest was a moment behind the priestess, and then they were both prostrate on the floor before Va'al, Enyo, and Maoz.
❂
Something neglected in her mind cracked an eye. Enyo felt a wave of elation ripple through her despite the pain in her physical form. Fear, respect, adoration. Oh, how she had missed those things. Missed people bowing, people recognizing her precisely for who she was.
To be seen.
Stepping forward, the smirk was impossible to hide as she looked down on Esha’s sacred priests. Soft-handed, feeble-minded fools. Not warriors like her disciples. Not useful.
But it was a start.
“How can we aid you, great ones?” The Priestess Maya asked from her place on the floor. Enyo sighed. Great ones. Not many remembered the proper titles to due them.
Va'al’s eyes flicked to Enyo. “We will need Esha’s artifact, a human Vassal for her to use for the time being, and traveling provisions for four. Make sure there’s wine.”
The woman, still dazed from the effect of Va'al’s power, looked up in sudden inspiration. “It will be done, and I will be Esha’s Vassal. No lesser priestess will do for the Goddess herself.”
Lesser priestess?! Enyo bared her teeth. She had gotten a scrawny Ingolan healer as her Vassal and Esha would get some blooming, beautiful high priestess? Even if she was pregnant? Before she could argue, Maoz spoke.
“No. You will not.”
The two Esha followers glanced towards Maoz and then down, respectful. The hunter stepped forward and brought a hand to cup Priestess Maya’s chin, making her look up into his eyes.
Of course.
Enyo suppressed a groan. He’d not let a woman with child be put in harm's way. Even when she didn’t carry his seed. The protective sap.
Still, it served Enyo’s purpose. “You will do it,” she commanded the high priest, a pale smile revealing itself despite her pain. Priest Arawn nodded obediently, though, at the sight of her elongated canines, he hastily looked away. Enyo turned to Va'al, gaze mulish.
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Don’t you think, Taouk, it would be better to have someone fit? Maybe a tad younger? It would be a shame if Mascen stopped us before we could get our bodies back all because Esha’s Vassal couldn’t keep up.”
While she was flattered by the use of her title in the old language, Enyo scowled. Of course, he would suggest someone younger, someone prettier for darling Esha.
“Priest,” she snapped. The man stood at her command. “Will you slow us down?”
“No-no Great One.”
As if that were enough proof for her, Enyo looked to Va'al. “He’s fit enough. He’s not got a huge belly, and while he isn’t as young as my body or yours, he’ll do. After all. He only has to last until we find a fifth.”
Maoz helped the priestess to her feet. She was less cowed by the Gods than her male counterpart, and she watched them all carefully. Maoz’s hand lay at the small of her back, possessive.
Perhaps it hadn’t mattered all those years ago, all those lovers he had. Was it less about his own bloodline and more about the sanctity of life? She shook her head. Whatever it was, it was annoying.
“Well?” Enyo demanded. “Are we going to waste time looking for the ‘best fit’ or are we going to proceed? Mascen will find us.” She shifted, wincing at the pain in her useless arm. “This body is failing me now.”
Va'al looked for a second like he would snap at her, but his expression went bland again. “I’m glad you’ve finally decided to hurry, but we ought to get your arm seen to before we go.”
He glanced over to the priests. “Add a healer to our list, and see that it gets done as quickly as possible.”
All that was left was to wait.
Chapter XVII
Tenth Moon, Waning Crescent: Gwynhafan
The pain in her arm was growing, more portions of black turning grey and heavy. Enyo drank the teas Esha’s priestesses offered her, and while they made the pain more like a dull stab instead of a sharp lance, she was still struggling to master the sensation. How did mortals survive with long-lasting injuries? She knew many walked around with something wrong within them for moons, even years.
Yet days after Mascen’s punishment, Enyo was flagging. She wouldn’t be able to withstand much more of this—not with this body.
Of course, if she could use this form’s magic, perhaps then things would be better. But since Alphonse had let her friends free on the slopes of Thlonandras, Enyo had stuffed the girl far, far away. Into the deepest, darkest corner of her mind. Locked up and hidden. Suppressed.
Another burst of heat radiated through her hand, and Enyo panted, looking down to see a tendril of black transforming into igneous rock. As the heat receded, Enyo closed her eyes. She wouldn’t last long enough to get to Ruyaa’s temple at this rate. She needed more.
Down down down, she drifted on warm breezes until landing on a grassy bed. Or at least it felt like it to her bare feet. All around her was darkness. Soft and comforting, embracing. Not the darkness of oblivion or of death, but of restorative sleep.
Turning in her spot, Enyo looked for the girl. She found her sitting curled up in some invisible chair, a book, of all things, held in her lap—not only a book but a journal. How mundane. E
ven in her own mind, the healer was locked into mortal obscurity. What thoughts could she possibly have worth writing down? What experiences worth recording?
Enyo’s footfalls were silent as she approached, and yet Alphonse looked up. Her amber eyes widened with alarm, and she closed the journal quickly. “How—What are you doing here?” Even in her own mind, Alphonse sounded frightened. Afraid of Enyo.
The Goddess smiled. “I just thought I’d see what you were doing… It’s been so long … Are you comfortable?”
Alphonse frowned in confusion and glanced around them. There was nothing to look at, nothing to do… Enyo certainly would have been bored. “Yes.” The healer finally replied, standing and clutching the journal close to her chest. Protecting it.
As if Enyo cared what Alphonse thought about.
They stood in silence a breath longer before Enyo dived in. “You may have noticed—Your body has come to harm.”
The healer moved her right hand, the same as Enyo’s injured one, convulsively. “What has happened?”
“There was a battle, I was burned and—well…” Enyo lifted her hand. Even here, it was maimed, though the pain was tolerable.
Alphonse gasped in horror and took one tentative step forward. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” She reached for Enyo’s hand but suddenly stopped. Remembering, it seemed to Enyo, that they were not friends. That Alphonse was locked in her own mind and certainly could not heal Enyo’s injury. Their injury.
“It’s killing this form,” she told the healer, feeling it would inspire the girl to tell Enyo how to fix it. If she could.
Alphonse hesitated, looking at the injury. She teetered, Enyo could feel it. Even now, she could feel the healer’s consciousness at war. Insisting that Alphonse help. That she heal. Assist. Be kind, even to her enemy.
Enyo let herself wince visibly as she lowered the rotten appendage. She might not be a master of manipulation like Va'al, but she understood enough. Predictably, Alphonse inched closer, peering at the injury despite herself. “What caused this?”