Vagabonds

by Kyle Olson

  Even then, she was who she was, and they were mortals.

  She disappeared deep into the night-shrouded forest until those hollering after her were little more than whispers through the leaves. A few strides further and silence.

  Satisfied she’d be safe, she slumped against a tree and slid down.

  Hope their dashcams didn’t get my face. That’d be just what I needed, but probably not too expensive to get out of…

  A deep sigh escaped her lips and she rested her head against the trunk, taking in the stars above. She was still close enough to the city that its light hid many of the stars, but a few of the brighter, more eager sky-wanderers still twinkled overhead. One star in particular outshone all the others, a sun of the night.

  Oh, The Remembrance is out tonight. That time of the year already, huh…

  In an instant, she regretted looking up and thinking that.

  Without the weight of distraction to keep the lid in place, the cauldron of emotion boiled over. Tess jerked to her feet and walked. When walking wasn’t enough, she jogged. Then sprinted. Then… Ran.

  No matter how much she ran, she couldn’t shake them, couldn’t stuff them back in the pot.

  Shitshitshit

  No, I’m, I’m stronger than this!

  The goddess’ foot snagged on a root, spilling her face-first into the dirt.

  She rolled onto her back, crisp leaves crinkling in her raven hair. With a hand she flicked black bangs out of her eyes.

  Why. All my wealth, all my power! Why!

  A tear streamed down her cheek under the swaying canopies and crisp breezes. Another one joined its companion, following the same trail to splash a salty drop to the ground.

  ...No. I never flexed my power, did I? Just wanted a small, happy life so I never…

  The stars spun as the world turned.

  Was I wrong?

  I’m supposed to be over this! What was it all for if I’m still… Still this.

  Her soul parched.

  A hollow heart longed.

  Rage festered.

  In the recesses of her being, a jackal that was her, yet not, skulked about, whispering to her in a voice that was hers, but wasn’t. It’d been a while since they last spoke.

  Is Tess so truly alone? Blood does not make the bond. Is Tess so small? No. In fact, the shadow coiled around her, You know it in your heart. You just took their hopes and limits as your own.

  She told it to shut up, to go away.

  It laughed a familiar laugh. It is time for Tess to die and for Sartessorinova to live once again. Didn’t you say you were going to make the world right?

  Fuck. She hated that it had the best damned idea she’d heard in a long, long while. It was right. But, there was hesitation. Sensing this, the shadow morphed, standing tall and proud upon four sure legs.

  Do you remember how it ended with Sejit, all those years ago?

  …How could she not? The cauldron of memory bubbled, brought to a boil by her other self.

  …you to oblivion!

  For a long while, only her curses echoed in her mind and the end did not come.

  It dawned on Tess, as her stream of thought barreled on, that she was still very much alive for quite some time longer than she had any right to be.

  The jaws had not clamped down.

  After another several seconds passed, they let go of the jackal.

  Tess fell to the ground in a fit of hacks and coughs, coming up on wobbly legs.

  Her ruby eyes met the emeralds of the lion. Where they had shone with malice and anger, they’d become clouded with confusion. The lioness shook her head, but the haze lingered.

  She spoke, in a voice heavy and thick, “Where am I? I don’t recognize you or this place.”

  Weak. She’s weak!

  Tess lunged, hoping to crush the cat’s windpipe between her teeth.

  How wrong she was.

  The lioness had become a woman, no less imposing in stature, and caught the jackal mid-air and slammed her down, pinning her in place with both an arm and leg lock.

  “I’ll ask you again: Where am I?”

  Tess thrashed to no avail, even her own transformation to a human form in an attempt to worm free had not worked.

  “Scanzsova,” Tess grunted through grit teeth, still wriggling about. Still clad in the tattered black robe.

  The woman holding her said nothing for a time.

  “And you are?”

  Tess tried to fight her, but increasing pressure threatened to snap a limb.

  “Sartessorinova! Let me go, you murderous cunt! Look at what you’ve done!”

  Just as quickly as she’d been pinned, she was released. The woman was upright, surveying the aftermath. The conflagration was spreading wild, consuming over half the city. Soon, they would be encircled by the fire.

  Tess picked up a brick as she rose up from behind.

  “Don’t,” said the woman, without even having so much as glanced.

  She dropped the brick. “Fuck you.”

  The woman flexed a hand, as if she held something only she could see or feel. “Who was the man with the armor and antlers?”

  What can I do? The question raced in her mind. The lioness may have calmed, but there was still no hope of Tess winning a fight. No hope of avenging the fallen. No hope of exacting justice for Pantof, for the townsfolk. For her children.

  No hope of anything.

  “Fuck. You.”

  “Then, where is Mun—My weapon?”

  Tess spat in her face as she turned. She fully expected to be eviscerated right there, yet nothing came of it. Her mind tumbled down a dark path, punctuated by curses. If she was to lose everything, then so too would the evil before her.

  “Kill me, because I won’t tell you a fucking thing, murderer,” Tess hissed, thrusting a finger at the behemoth of a woman, “Get. Fucked.”

  Again, the woman’s response was not what she’d expected. No anger, no tensing of muscle heralding a strike. Instead, she sagged, shoulders dropping the same distance as across a grain of sand.

  “I… Was not myself,” said the lion-woman, voice quivering with uncertainty.

  “Weren’t yourself? Weren’t yourself?!” Tess shrieked, throwing a punch at the woman. She was almost taken aback when it connected with the woman’s chin, snapping her head back. “How many have died, how much has been ruined! Look what you’ve taken from me! Why? Why?!”

  It was all she could do to stem the tide of burning tears. The flames had encircled them, dancing and reaching within arm’s reach. An idea crept into her morbid thoughts.

  She’d seen it before, knew it was possible, even if she herself had never done so. Calling out to the flames in silent prayer, Tess urged them to devour the goddess of ruin. Devour them both.

  A wispy tendril lashed out, singeing a few strands of the woman’s hair.

  “And I am not myself now,” the woman said, clenching both fists, “You did something to me just then, when your life was in my grasp.”

  No matter how many more silent pleas she heaped upon the fires, they did not respond. Nothing. There was nothing she could do save for try to hate the woman to death.

  “Not even an apology?” Tess snapped, for all the good it’d do.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed, “We both know that wouldn’t change what’s happened here, and—”

  The sheer audacity blew out whatever contained her wrath and Tess attacked. Not with her fists or teeth, but something inside. Wrath ate away the boundary, tore through the divide between here and there.

  She became aware of the void from which she was born, saw herself in the emptiness. It was her, but not her. The jackal in the void smiled. It told her that her gift had additional uses. All Sartessorinova had to do was… inflict her gift upon the evil and it would go away.

  Allowing the jackal’s words to envelope her, Tess became aware of something else. It pulsed red and hot to her mind’s eye—it was rage. Not hers. It belonged to someone else
. The woman in front of her? Yes. That was it.

  Shade by shade, more colors appeared. Every color she could imagine, and even some she couldn’t.

  She reached out and found she could touch the colors. Hold them. Cast them into the abyss. She tore apart the rainbow, yanking everything from the woman she could get her hands on: Great big chunks of blue and green, yellow and orange, violet and indigo and hurled them into the void, like rocks into the sea.

  The woman went limp and fell in a boneless heap. She grunted and moaned, but fought on, “What, what….”

  “I don’t know!” Tess cackled, “But now you will die! Gakaka!”

  The woman cried out in pain until Tess ripped the very notion of pain from her and threw it away like so much garbage. She twitched some, but still would not succumb. The woman fought against her dismemberment, and even managed one word: “Please.”

  “Please? What, “Please stop?” Did you stop? No, you murderous bitch. So why should I?”

  Why should I, she repeated to herself.

  She stopped laughing.

  The lion had been so strong, so imposing and unstoppable.

  And now, so pitiful.

  She needed this, to leave the lioness a husk, a broken shell. She’d murdered so many, ruined so much. One of her sons and granddaughters were dead. Who knew how many more smoldered in the burning ruins?

  Why should I?

  Someone called out from afar.

  In fact, several someones.

  Why should I?

  The pitiful thing at her feet had gone still. A few flickers of life remained, a few colors thrummed and pulsed. Only when the woman’s soul had been stripped bare of color did Tess see something underneath it all. A color without color, but from one the reds and yellows and oranges drank from to be what they were. Without that absent color, they would not have shone with such brilliance.

  Because this is not who I am.

  That is not who she is.

  …I see now.

  Anger, grief, and sorrow all demanded vengeance, demanded justice, demanded she finish it. It hurt, hurt so much. But that was… She had to be better, to live true to herself and those who believed in her.

  With a sweep of an astral arm she recovered most of the gamut from the reaches of eternity and shoved them into their old container. The lion woman writhed and twitched as the spectra reoriented itself into a proper order, though a gap remained where red ought to have been. The color without color shone from the vacancy.

  “Know you’ve been beaten, desolater,” Tess said, crouching down, “And know it is by The Merciful Void that you survive.”

  The woman could not stand yet, but Tess did not linger, did not gloat or lord. Cinching her robe tight, she marched through the flames towards the voices. Her people. They needed her now more than ever.

  Across the days that followed, they’d discovered no trace of the lion, save for a mysterious weapon forged from a metal similar to that which had made Pantof’s armor, only it was superior. Far superior.

  This was kept, for a time, as a trophy of their victory.

  Even decades later, those who survived the attack from the unknown goddess recalled their victory. Sartessorinova had done battle with the lion, summoning the flames of perdition to weaken the demon so that she could be cast into the void. As the city rebuilt and repopulated, her worshipers and adherents spread the tale of their goddess wielding shadow in one hand and fire in the other.

  Even centuries later, Sartessorinova never forgot.

  Until she wished to forget.

  In the present, Tess’s teeth ground against one another. She’d been so sure, so right, despite the fear. To live like that once again… An easy thing to think, to reach for.

  Yet she could be so easily swayed. There could be no turning back, no last-minute course corrections once she reached the threshold.

  So be it.

  Like that, the shadow vanished, leaving behind wisps of a toothy grin. She wished it hadn’t. She could use a good conversation right about now.

  Good to know I can make the voices go away, she thought bitterly, And good to know that I know I’m going crazy. How I wish I could just…

  Tess caught herself.

  Wish.

  When was the last time I wished for anything?

  She snorted, then laughed, dry and overflowing with self-loathing.

  Time marched on, peeling back the veil of night and bringing with it the pinks and yellows of a new dawn.

  I shouldn’t have kept my distance. Should’ve been in their lives… But then…

  Differently. What should I have done differently? Wasn’t this time different?

  Thoughts spun in a circle, a dog chasing its tail.

  She squinted as a ray of light trekked up her cheek.

  No, it wasn’t. I just thought it was. Fooled myself.

  Tess stood, dusting herself off and stretching tense muscles.

  No more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Two legs, two legs, two legs.

  Walking on two legs, walking on two legs, because I only have two legs and walking on more than two isn’t something humans do.

  Sophia stumbled forward with the grace of someone who knew what walking was only because they’d looked it up in the dictionary, but the important aspect was that she was doing it! Walking like a normal person with two very human legs.

  Walking, walking! Don’t think about how much weird it feels, no, no no! This should feel natural because it is!

  “Good work,” Yf said, nodding in approval from the sofa as the girl made her trek across the living room, “See, it’s not so—”

  “Sophia!” Tarkit shouted, poking his head into the room. Right behind her, of course.

  “Agh!”

  And just like that, the pants she’d been wearing shredded like tissue-paper, torn apart by the sudden growth of four fuzzy legs and the body to which they were affixed.

  “Good work,” Yf repeated, albeit with lidded eyes. She took a long drink from her precariously low drink, bottoming it out in the process.

  “Ah, sorry! Didn’t know you were practicing,” Tarkit boomed, because his voice always did, “I just wanted to let you know dinner is ready.”

  If there was any consolation, Sophia had managed the feat of staying upright during her impromptu transformation instead of landing in a heap of tangled limbs.

  “Damn it! That’s the third pair this week!” Sophia held up a strip of shredded denim like some dead thing.

  “You could just go naked.”

  “No way. Not with you all watching.”

  Yf’s cat tail swished, “Hasn’t stopped you before.”

  “That was different!” Sophia pointed at Tarkit, cutting him off before he could do anything other than quirk a brow, “Before you say anything: I’m not some nudist like all you gods!”

  “I’m merely a son of a god,” Tarkit said, correcting her, “Besides, when you’ve been around as long as I have, you come to accept there are all sorts. If you’re worried about me, worry not! You’re far too young.”

  “Damn it, no!” Sophia shouted in protest, stomping in frustration on the tattered remnants of pants departed, “I’m not some kind of exhibitionist!”

  Tarkit put on a thinking face, which involved furrowing his gray, caterpillar-like eyebrows and stroking at his beard, “But Sophia, you’re quite exposed now, yes?”

  “Yesssss,” she hissed, dragging her palm across her face, “Only because, you know, my last pair of pants just exploded. Not like I have a choice. Guess I’ll go get the sheet…”

  “Who would be interested in seeing a lion? Though, now that I think about it, the other day on the internet, I saw—”

  “No, see, I can live without hearing that,” Sophia intervened, but it was too late; her expression betrayed where her thoughts and imagination had ventured. And yet, as much as she’d rather not, there was a part of her that rather would, no matter the cost.

  Before
either of them could say a word further, Sophia made herself scarce to clothe herself in the finest bedding available.

  Learning how to control her new self wasn’t something that was going to happen overnight, or even overweek, she reasoned, but reason could only stave off frustration and annoyance so much. Having to stay cooped up inside all the time wasn’t helping. Not like she’d gone out much since arriving at Tarkit’s, but she still went into town to get this or that, run errands and the like.

  Then there was the part where she might have some extra abilities, like knowing she knew. That was trickier still, something like a riddle. She’d ask herself questions, ones she knew she wouldn’t know. Of course, that meant she didn’t know the answer. But, if she was fortunate, she’d get a few faint images, though it was like trying to look at an old sepia photo through an inch of frosted glass.

  The alternative was asking herself things she already knew, but what was the point in that?

  Sophia thought on this and gave her impromptu dress one good cinch around the waist for good measure. Maybe a good movie or book to relax would help her figure things out. It hadn’t the previous ten or twelve times, but maybe it’d work this time.

  As she head back downstairs, the doorbell chimed. Strange, it was too late for the mail and other than that, there’d been no visitors since she’d been there. Curious, she hastened her flight, four padded feet tromping down the wooden steps.

  Yf lounged, drawing a long, slow breath through her pipe as she watched a tiger cub bat around strips of blue denim.

  I suppose I shouldn’t be so impatient. It’s a miracle she’s even alive, let alone that her inheritance woke.

  She exhaled in contentment.

  Or maybe it’s because she’s impatient that I’m feeling rushed. She was as amazed as I was that it worked, yet every day she wants progress. Progress with the unknown… Can’t say I blame her, considering all the shit going on and where this is all headed. But lay off, right? How am I supposed to teach someone something when I don’t know where to begin? That library has been utterly useless.

  Yf sighed. The cub rolled about, growling with all the ferocity a tiny, uncoordinated kitten could, shredding the shreddings to shreds.

  “Aww, who’s a cute little guy? That’s right, you are!”