Servants and Followers (The Legends of Arria, Volume 2)

by Courtney Bowen

  Menthar burned minerals in the water as well, which got embedded inside the rock and land that was forming and became gems and precious materials buried deep inside the earth. Yet Menthar did not realize what he was doing as, so furious still, he could not fathom the life being returned to him, only of the bad that had been done to him, and his thoughts could not rest so long as he lived in remembrance of the hatred he had felt and of what had happened to him. And these thoughts would eventually lead to his undoing as, affected by such bad thoughts, he would do more to spread evil throughout his existence than to dispel it. For though the evil that he was about to deliver was not natural to him, in the sense that he came down from the sky just as pure as his brothers and sister, he was still infected by the demon of hatred and envy. Loqwa might have released this demon when he was digging deep into the ocean floor, and opened a hole into another world that Menthar’s liquid fire, lava, flowed through, and entered out of, but Menthar’s mind was still the source of this demon.

  And his acts would not be forgotten by others, nor would he be alone in doing such acts, for the creatures that had grown because of his rage and his fury would be affected by the warmth of his immortal fire in that water for the rest of their lives. They would feel passion and hatred for each other, and feed upon each other to stay alive all of their existence, and the evil would spread.

  Mila realized that they were being saved when she felt the ocean floor bearing her up alongside her brothers. But she did not question this event as she knew that the sky must have intervened with the ocean to save them. Instead she thanked the sky for his help, and then went to the task of setting things up for the return to the sky; namely, she started growing the underwater plants into trees and the forest as she thought to herself that the trees would be necessary for helping them to breathe on the surface, making air for the sky. And the ocean floor broke the surface at last, becoming land.

  The four gods inhaled deeply and then stepped out, looking around at each other and at the land surrounding them. It was fully formed, with mountains, hills, forests, rivers and lakes (where the ocean had not completely drained away), valleys, and more. The four gods were closest to the forest that Mila had made as they realized that only part of the ocean floor had risen up with them; the land was surrounded by ocean. And though there might be more land in the distance, where the ocean had attempted to catch and find them in their struggles, still it wasn’t quite so big. And the sky was still above them; they reached up to the sky, hoping to be taken back up into the sun and the clouds, but Day and Night were yet negligent of their four children.

  Popo, Mila, Menthar and Loqwa realized they could not expect to be rescued any more than they already had, and so the four gods turned to face one another. While underwater, they had been so concerned about themselves that they had not taken notice of each other enough to think about the others as individuals. Instead, they had been aware that there were siblings, or other relatives, struggling close by just like them, but not enough to know what their characters were.

  Popo could now see his siblings in broad daylight, and he appraised them as he assumed that he would be their new leader now, and he needed to know who he would be dealing with here. They were a ragtag bunch, especially Menthar and Loqwa, when his two brothers seemed sullen for some reason, but at least Mila was pretty enough and seemed pleasant enough to be a good companion for him. Popo assumed he would be paired with her when the other two weren’t so pleasant to be around, and she might side towards him out of fear of the others or empathy for him.

  Menthar was scowling at everyone, especially Popo and Loqwa when his two brothers seemed too solemn and serious. But he softened at the sight of Mila, who seemed to be warm and forgiving--easy to bend and easy to break, perhaps, if he wanted to get close to her.

  Loqwa was uncertain about his siblings. He saw some strange looks being exchanged between Popo and Menthar, angry, hateful looks, before their eyes were all directed at Mila, almost hungrily. He did not comment on their behavior, but only watched, as he felt like he shouldn’t intervene. For one thing, his brothers seemed to ignore him out of natural instinct, like they wanted to look away from him and not acknowledge him out of fear of acknowledging the inevitable, death. He did not quite like that. He was no worse, and might even be better, than they were.

  Yet he did not intervene in this situation now because he wanted to be attended to and paid attention to just like Mila was, but that would only happen when he was needed in this situation. Then he might be acknowledged as being just as important as any of his siblings. Meanwhile, Mila was a little uncertain about her siblings as well. For though she could not know that she was the cause of the tension beneath the surface, she knew that something was amiss, and that she might be the target of it. Her brothers had been affected—especially Popo and Menthar, who seemed to be circled around her, and staring at each other—and she was afraid that whatever might happen next, she would be affected as well, and changed like they were. She turned, and saw Loqwa staring at her with a sad look in his eyes. She edged away from him, closer to Popo and Menthar, and then realized what she was doing.

  Habala stopped reading Basha’s copy of Legends of Arria at this point, vaguely uncomfortable, as if the myth with Menthar and Popo and Mila reminded her of…she could not imagine what exactly, although it pulsated in her mind, the two brothers and the girl they both loved. She did not like to think about that part of her life, when she had been so young and naive, and it had been so long ago that she was an entirely different person now, or so she hoped.

  She would like to think that she had changed since then, and that she could excuse her actions then as those of an amused, whimsical girl whose perceptions, narrowed as they were by years spent living in the forest, had broadened only after her mistake. She would rather shutter off that part of her memories and of herself to another part of her mind, somewhere she could forget about them, but she could not really. She had to remember so that she would not make that same mistake again.

  In any case, she closed the book, put it back on the shelf, and left the boys’ bedroom, shutting the door behind her and turning around, only to nearly collide with Brigga. Brigga stopped, clutching a hamper basket of bed linen close to her that she had just brought in from the clothesline, and curtseyed as best she could. “I am sorry, ma’am,” Brigga began, eying the floor, “I should have watched where I am going.”

  “Instead of watching where I am,” Habala said, and then stopped herself. “No, I am sorry, I…how is Nisa?” She asked.

  “Recovering slowly, it was a bad illness,” Brigga said, nodding as she looked up. “She eats very little now, but at least she’s managing to eat, and keep it down in her stomach, which is a relief to me.”

  “Good, glad to hear that,” Habala said, slightly disgusted by the description as she started to turn and head for the back door and the kitchen.

  “However, I think she might be considering not coming back for a while longer.” Brigga said over her shoulder to Habala in a low voice.

  “What do you mean?” Habala asked, turning back and staring at her.

  “I mean that when Nisa is well, she might to decide to visit her cousin, a few miles away from here.” Brigga said, turning to Habala. “She just had a baby.”

  “A baby? Her cousin?” Habala asked, arching an eyebrow. “Is this the truth?”

  Brigga sighed. “What is wrong with you? Of course it is the truth.”

  “It’s nothing, I’m just wondering, that is all,” Habala said, looking down at the floor as Brigga started to leave. “What is the name of your daughter’s cousin, your niece I imagine?” She asked.

  “Hestia,” Brigga said, going towards the common room and the stairs up to the guest rooms.

  “Hestia.” Habala muttered, shaking her head. “Right, Hestia.” She went outside, deciding not to follow Brigga for now, especially when she had her own chores to take care of at the moment, but she would have a talk with her childh
ood friend soon about Nisa. Brigga could not keep up with this lie.

  The Old Man was out on patrol as he usually was during the day, maintaining the magical shield surrounding Coe Baba and making sure that nothing was amiss, when he had stopped for a moment to watch as Brigga took down dry bed linen from the clothesline in the inn yard. She had gone to work at the inn, just like Nisa had said she would, that was good, the Old Man thought to himself vaguely, but mostly, he watched Brigga’s fluid movements as she untied the twists on the line, folded up the linen, and placed them back in the hamper basket. Though she was not as young as she once was, having spent years at work and raising a child on her own, she was just as beautiful, perhaps even more so, than she had been as a young adult, not long after her childhood years.

  Brigga was an exceptional woman, the Old Man thought to himself, able to stand up to any challenge that stood in her way, and remain undeterred. She always had been that way, it was what had attracted her to him and him to her in the first place, and he had thought then that she might be able to handle…he shook his head, and sighed to himself. He never should have assumed that she would be able to handle a long-term relationship with him, especially when it was so strange.

  The age differences between them was phenomenal, lifetimes’ and generations’ worth that the Old Man had lived through, and he felt that age difference whenever he was with Brigga, remembering all of the people that he had loved so long ago, and now they were gone, nothing more than dust. One day, Brigga would, most likely, be nothing more than dust in his hands, and he would be left alone once more. He did not want to live through that pain again.

  Brigga did not understand, Brigga could not fully comprehend his pain, and all of that time he had lived through, when she had lived just a brief span of that time. She could only experience just a small amount of time with him before she was gone for good and he did not want to share that pain with her. He wanted her to live for as long as possible without any pain in her life, and he knew that it would be best for her to live without him in her life. He still thought of her as one of the children that he had told stories to, and he still wanted to protect her from the dangers of the outside world.

  Acknowledging their relationship in public would also have been catastrophic to their reputations in town. The Old Man would no longer have been trusted to tell his stories to the children, knowing that one of them had grown up to be his lover, which was slightly disturbing, and Brigga would have lived with the title of the Old Man’s lover, the bearer of his child, for the rest of her life, with people glancing askance at her, and alienating her from normal life. The Old Man did not want to expose her to such ridicule. In the end, it was better for her to be just a single mother, with a fatherless daughter.

  Nisa was a complication that they had not intended to happen, but now that it had happened, and he had gotten used to the situation, getting to know his daughter, the Old Man was secretly glad of it. At least there would be some reminder, for a while at least, of his union with Brigga, one that might outlast even him.

  Once or twice, the Old Man thought that Brigga might have noticed him, perched up on the roof of The Smiling Stallion inn, if she had realized that she was being watched, but Brigga continued folding up laundry, and carried it inside the inn, without once looking up at him. He stayed, though, still thinking about her, and saw what happened when Habala walked out.

  Outside, Smidge was mucking out the stables…great. She had been avoiding Smidge for the past few days now, ever since the fire; he might think her vulnerable, or something. She did not want to get ambushed right now.

  “Habala. How are you today?” Smidge asked, turning towards her.

  “Fine, Smidge,” Habala said, turning away from him.

  “Habala, wait.” He said, reaching out towards her, not minding that his gloved hands had some horse dung on them. “I apologize for not talking to you sooner.” She scoffed at him as he continued, “I should have known that you and I would be busy these past couple of days, and that you might have been avoiding me after what happened with the fire.” He said, sidestepping her when she was trying to get around him, “But I should have made the effort to reach out to you sooner, and give my regard to you. I want you to always know that you have me around to comfort you, if you need it.”

  “Thank you, Smidge, but I am fine,” She said, shaking her head. She almost wished she could summon up the fire to burn him in that moment, but she couldn’t harm him, not him. He was still her brother-in-law, after all, Geda’s brother. “You have been of great help to us, these past couple of days and almost every day, and I am grateful for that, but please do not let this go on any further. Leave me alone.” She pleaded.

  “Habala, don’t you wish we could return to our glory days,” He said, clasping her shoulders before she could protest, “When we were young and in love, free from any cares and woes?” He said, trying to wrap his arms around her.

  “Smidge, no.” She said, recoiling from him and pushing him away from her. “I am tired of hearing you talk to me this way. I don’t wish to go back to the past because I don’t love you that way, not anymore, and maybe I never have.” She said, looking down. “I may never have loved you the way I love Geda, because that is true love, and that is not what we had. We had passion and fire, but that was it. Geda will always be the one for me. You were just the first.” She said, looking up at Smidge. “I am sorry, but that is the way I feel. I am sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise, but I am perfectly clear about this: no. I don’t love you, I never have, and I never will, so just get away from me, and leave me alone, or I will tell you brother, and you don’t want Geda getting angry at you for touching me without my consent!” She cried, and Smidge flinched. “I want nothing more to do with you.” She said.

  “Habala, Basha and Oaka are gone,” Smidge said, continuing on with words that chilled her heart, and hardened her resolve, “And Geda is…Geda is not going to last very long, the way he is going these days. You will lose him if you are not careful, and then what will you do? I will be willing and able to provide for you once I inherit the inn, and then we can reconsider.”

  “No, Smidge, not even then, not even if Geda were dead.” She said, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “I cannot abide the thought of marrying you, or being provided for by you, even if you were the last man on Earth. I would go on my own way, if I were left alone in such a way without my husband and sons, but I will not give up hope on my family just yet. I will fight for them, care for them, and believe in them until we are all reunited, either here on Earth or in the afterlife. I bid you good day, Smidge,” She said, turning away from him and heading back towards the inn before he could retaliate.

  She just couldn’t get anywhere today, what with Smidge and Brigga in her way. Well, Brigga not so much, but Smidge was definitely in her way, he was actively trying to stop her from leaving him. She just wouldn’t stand for it, not anymore. She was done with him, for good. She would tell Geda the truth about what was happening here if Smidge made another false move at her, but luckily, Smidge did nothing more then. She was safe, for now.

  The Old Man frowned to himself, and shook his head, as he shrunk deeper into the shadows of the roofline to avoid being spotted by Habala, walking back towards the inn. Smidge always seemed to be up to no good these days, getting in the way and interfering with everything, and it worried him. He had dismissed Smidge a long time ago as someone that he had no need worry about, as other people were the ones responsible for some unfortunate events, and Smidge had just gotten involved in them by accident. But now he was starting to reconsider his decision, as Smidge was starting to show up again in the most unusual, unlikeliest of places, which reminded the Old Man of the past events that Smidge had been involved in, and just how culpable was Smidge then for his actions?

  Perhaps he shared more of a burden of responsibility for his actions than the Old Man had credited him for, and the Old Man had just dismissed his culpability out of a misguided
belief that Smidge was just a brash young man who had strayed out of the fold, and would be led back in by his older brother and by his older brother’s wife, Habala. But then again, Smidge had always had feelings for Habala, and he was jealous of his older brother Geda for inheriting the inn and marrying the girl that he had loved, or at least admired, so perhaps the Old Man should not have expected Smidge to follow their example when Smidge coveted their position for himself. The Old Man had made a mistake in the past when it came to Smidge, but he would not make it again. He would keep his eyes on Smidge, and make sure that Smidge didn’t step out of line.

  As the Old Man clambered over the roof of the Smiling Stallion inn, and jumped to the roof of the building beside it, Brigga opened the shutter of one of the guest bedroom windows on the second floor a little wider. She watched him go, and then glanced down to the stable yard. She had sensed that she was being watched by the Old Man while she was folding up the bed linen just before now, but she wasn’t certain about her feelings, especially when they weren’t as enhanced as whatever senses the Old Man had, and Smidge was in the stables, mucking out the stalls not far away from her. He would certainly have suspected that something was amiss with her if she had started looking up at the roofline, or shouting out the Old Man’s name. She couldn’t give away the Old Man’s secret like that, especially to Smidge.

  She wasn’t certain about Smidge, especially the way that he looked at her, so slyly yet arrogantly that it made her nervous about his intentions towards her, and apparently he had gotten into some trouble in the past, around the time that Habala had broken off her engagement with him and started dating Geda. That was a long time ago, soon after Nisa was born, and Brigga had still been seeing the Old Man then, although in private, and they soon had broken off that engagement. The Old Man had told her some of the details of Smidge’s awful behavior, and Habala had told her the rest, and as far as Brigga could gather from both accounts, there was no way that she would have ever trusted Smidge again.