Vagabonds

by Kyle Olson

  Only four years and the world was… as it was.

  Sophia stood in a jolt, unable to endure her seat at Sejit’s desk. Goddess or not, no one could fill her place.

  And the world hadn’t much cared.

  Oh, sure, markets went crazy for a while. Erton went through a rough patch, what with all its central leadership gutted. Coanphany and Yosel too, though to lesser degrees. Such major, shaking changes should have left their permanent mark upon the world. Yet, four years later… What? A few cults had sprung up to worship the gods. They’d mostly fallen out of favor since the events dried up—a true testament to belief in the modern era. Economies rebounded. The world went round.

  Sophia found herself looking through a glass case at a weapon that once threatened to end the world. A weapon forged by, in no unmistakable terms, love. She rested a hand against the glass, then her forehead.

  All the death, all the destruction and chaos. All the plotting and scheming. All the ideals and wills and personalities and characters so strong the world had to be a lesser place without them, no matter their ills. It just had to.

  “Troubled?” Came a deep, rich voice from a boy.

  Sophia kept on staring ahead at Mun’skit. “A little,” she said.

  “Can’t say I blame you. Madam’s departure was…” Wophin trailed off. She could hear the flecks of fondness and sadness in his voice, “…Sudden. No funerals, no rites.”

  Sophia backed off and turned. He held a bottle of wine and two glasses. On his face, a thin smile. “No way of saying goodbye, you mean,” she said.

  “That’s one way to put it, yes,” He set the glasses down on the desk and popped the cork on the bottle, “Madam’s favorite vintage. We do still have so much of it.”

  The dark ruby liquid flowed into each glass. Sophia scooped up the first glass, waiting for Wophin to finish pouring his.

  “It’s not just how sudden they… vanished,” she said, choosing the word carefully, “But that…”

  “…No one seems to care?”

  Sophia’s silence was her answer.

  “The world has grown too big to care about the gods,” he said, swirling his glass, “Or about people. Why do you think stories about individuals changing the world are so popular?”

  “It’s not right! Yes, they… did things, not all of it good, but they all believed what they were doing was the right thing, even if it meant… Ifon, even Daontys thought they were benefiting mortals, in their own way. The power they commanded! Erton was a disaster for all of two years before it was business as usual!”

  Wophin took a seat upon the desk, taking the face of an old man who had to deliver an important life lesson to a young girl still bursting with hopes and dreams. “When have shadows and dust ever changed the world?”

  “You can’t mean that! We’re more than that! They were way more!”

  “Then why has nothing changed? Why does the world not lament the passing of its gods?”

  Sophia’s mouth hung open. “It’s all fucked up, is why.”

  Wophin smiled, this time with his eyes. “That it is, Miss Sophia.”

  “…I miss them, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “At the end, it tore me up. I thought they were like Ifon and Daontys, just working together as a means to achieve an end.”

  “The way they quarreled? Only friends could tolerate it.”

  “And I said I hated her. After all she did for me,” Sophia sniffled and looked away from Wophin, “She acted like she didn’t care, but I know. I know.”

  “Then you should also know she understands you were upset at the time.”

  “That’s not the point! Gods,” Sophia caught herself, calming down with a gulp of wine, “Look at me. I never knew I cared, either. I just wish I could… Sejit…”

  “I know,” said Wophin, easily, as he slid from the desk, “If you wish for an answer to your question, why not look out there?” Wophin said, indicating with his glass to the picture window.

  “It’s just the city,” Sophia said, glumly.

  “It is. Go, look.”

  “Whatever, fine.”

  Sophia approached a window overlooking the city, glass of wine in hand. sA vibrant city, full of life and bustle. Nothing was out of the ordinary, though it was a little more developed than when she’d first moved there after being hired by Sejit. Well, a lot more, actually. Those first months were a plague of transients drifting about, of tent subdivisions for all the workers involved in the construction. She’d come in just as the construction was wrapping up.

  It wasn’t always like that, was it?

  She’d done what no mortal would. And life went on.

  Without Sejit’s hand, what would happen now? Certainly, life would go on, but would it be on the proper path?

  Did they know they owed it all to her? Sophia grit her teeth. She had her answer, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Wophin came up to stand alongside her.

  “Yf has asked after you,” he said, casually.

  That only made her feel worse. “I should probably stop ignoring him, huh? It’s just…”

  “She, now. Again,” Wophin rolled his eyes, “And yes, she knows. It’s why she doesn’t just pop up.”

  “If everyone knows everything, then why do we need to do anything?”

  Wophin shrugged, “It’s the way of the world.”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “It is.”

  “I should probably apologize for the shit I said back then, huh? I mean, that was selfish. Yf was close to them, too. More than I was.”

  “So contact her, I’m sure she’d be glad to hear from you. Such a social god does not do well in isolation.”

  “Wow, really laying on the guilt trip, huh?”

  “Someone has to take up the mantle of tormenting you,” Wophin said, wearing a smirk.

  “Jee, thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  Sophia had to clear her throat before speaking. “Do you think Tess is still alive out there, somewhere? I ask myself, but all I get is a message to ask again later. It’s strange.”

  “Who knows?”

  “I wish I did.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “But, what does it all mean? Is there any meaning? To them, you, me?”

  Wophin tilted an ear to his shoulder and thought. “Meaning is where you find it. We were all born to live and meant to die.”

  “..The gods were meant to die?”

  “Why else would we be so human?”

  It was Sophia’s turn to think. “…I guess, but that doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to.”

  They shared a short, singular chuckle, the kind through the nose as a breath, though Sophia’s had a bit of a stutter to it.

  “How about a toast?” Wophin said, holding up his glass to Sophia, and after she wiped away an errant tear, she did the same.

  “What to?”

  “To… The gods.”

  “To the gods.”

  Clink.

  EPILOGUE

  A long, long time ago, the land that would one day be known as Yosel was not quite so dry. Large swathes were still sandy, of course, but the wide, sweeping plains and savannas were far more expansive.

  It was upon this land that a nomadic tribe, following behind a herd of antelope from far to the south-east, happened upon a wide, lazy river full of fish and banks rich in dark, loamy soil. Herds of gazelle, rhino, and other green-loving creatures drank from its cool waters.

  Yet, there was no other tribe in sight.

  The elders and wise men of the tribe knew their find to be fortuitous, perhaps too fortuitous. The tribe searched up and down the banks for many miles. They came upon a small village, but it had been abandoned for what seemed like a few years at least. They’d also happened upon a caravan, and when asked, the members of the caravan had warned them that the reason no one settled the lands, or at least for long, was because the area was home t
o a pride of fierce lions so large and aggressive they would chase out any who dared linger.

  Thanking the caravan, the tribesmen took their leave without mentioning they’d been in the area for several moons and had seen nary a predator, nor even their tracks.

  That evening, the tribe convened on the matter, and around the fire, they reached a decision: They would wander no longer, though they would found their village a ways south of the abandoned one. Lions had been dealt with before and would be again if so needed.

  In the following days there was a flurry of activity as scouts surveyed for wood and stone they could use to construct permanent housing instead of tents made of animal skins. They also learned, in short order, how to construct fishing vessels. Hunters dispersed to find suitable grounds for their game, agreeing that hunting along the riverbanks would likely scatter the herds and make them fearful of the area. Others learned how to fish and sow crops, using a smattering of seeds they’d collected on their journey.

  Working the ground proved to be more difficult than imagined. Several of their bronze weapons, for which they’d traded scores of pelts and pretty stones for, had to be melted and reformed into suitable tools. Many questioned the need to remove the countless rocks from their rows of dirt. After all, the bushes in the wild didn’t mind if they grew around some boulders or stones. But, the foremost expert, who was an expert because he had asked a trader of chickpeas how to grow them, had said it must be done.

  So too did those slated to become fishermen have to learn how to ply their trade, not to mention swim. Many were suspicious of fording into the deep waters, they had seen how it could end. But, it must be done.

  While those in their new trades learned, the hunters went out. Crops took time to grow and the tribe still required food. The herds were numerous and in a single morning they had taken enough game that it was decided to hold a feast to celebrate their founding.

  The village prospered.

  Around the passing of the tenth sunrise since the founding, while on a hunt, one of the men, who had not been on any of the previous hunts, asked a question: “Where are the lions, the hyenas?”

  This had been discussed before and had ended with “Who knows?”

  Still, the newcomer meant a revisit to the discussion. It’d ended in an agreement that yes, there had been a lack of predators since coming to this land and it must owe to some sort of natural blessing. Perhaps they were in a sacred land.

  Of course, discussing the topic had the effect of bringing it to life.

  Slinking through a rocky outcrop, the lead hunter dropped to a knee and brought his hand up. “Hold!” He said in a harsh whisper. The others behind him did the same.

  “What is it?”

  “There, under that tree,” said the lead hunter, indicating the direction with his spear.

  Two hundred paces away, a lioness lounged in the shade of a tree. Not just any lioness, either.

  “She’s massive!”

  “Twice the size of anything I’ve ever seen!”

  “Where are the others?”

  They began to look around, backs pressed to the outcropping. A lioness was seldom alone. To make matters worse, the lioness looked up from her lazy slumber, straight at them. The winds had not been in their favor.

  Lips were licked, spears shook, arrows nocked, and breaths held long enough for the sun to make an appreciable journey across the sky. The lioness had taken an interest in them, insomuch as they could gather from the way she kept her gaze upon them, but no others had appeared, nor had she moved from her cozy spot.

  With the day wasting away, they had to get a move on. They crept along, back from whence they came. The lioness saw fit to let them leave in peace, much to their relief. Once the group had gotten far enough away, they resumed their hunt. In little time they’d picked up on the trail of an antelope, wounded by the look of its track. And, sure enough, they found the beast gimping along. A quick bit of work with a spear and they had another meal for the village.

  As they moved to hoist the beast, a roar from behind sent them scurrying in a primal panic. It was only by their human intellect and experience that they recovered and regrouped, forming a line with their weapons aimed at the lioness.

  “Did she follow us?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Keep a watch from behind!”

  The lioness padded near. She was even bigger up close; twice the size had been a conservative estimate. It would’ve been possible for them to kill her, but there was no way they would escape unscathed.

  They slunk away from her and their kill as a group, spears up and arrows ready like a many-legged porcupine. Once they were far enough away, the lioness lost any interest in them and feasted upon the antelope. It pained them to leave it behind as the sun was beginning to set, but better to live and hunt another day.

  “Thieving lion,” one muttered as they made the trek home.

  “Big lion,” another commented.

  “Maybe she’s the one keeping all the other lions away?”

  “Do you think she’s the one who made that other village leave?”

  “Maybe. But to be that big, she must be very old, don’t you think?”

  “If she was that old, how come she didn’t have any scars or wounds? She looked fresh as a cub.”

  The rest of the journey consisted of posing questions, only to answer them with other questions. Other than the details they saw first-hand, they couldn’t reach an agreement on why things were the way they were. Even the elders didn’t have much to say, other than yes, the lioness should be avoided if at all possible. As long as she didn’t get aggressive and no other lions appeared, there was no reason to move the village. Several hunters would remain behind to act as guards, in case the lioness decided to make a snack of the villagers.

  For the time being they would exercise a bit more caution, and if needed, the village would eat less for a short while. Once they’d finished weaving the nets for fishing, they would be less reliant on the hunts and the problem would be over.

  On the following day, the hunters picked up the trail of a small herd easily enough, though there weren’t any sickly members. It took a few arrows, but they managed to fell one of the beasts.

  However, just as before, a roar sounded once they were about to take their prize home. And, just as before, when they backed off, the lioness stopped caring about them and set about gorging herself.

  “How?” said one hunter in frustration.

  “We should have seen her at some point…”

  “Maybe she’s using us to hunt for her?”

  “Impossible, lions aren’t that clever.”

  “What if she is?”

  Irritated, they had to continue their pursuit and expend more arrows to complete their task. At least those arrows could be re-used.

  Back at the village, one of the elders, a former huntsmaster himself long before any of the current group had been born, was just as vexed as the rest. Unusual behavior for a lioness, to say the least. They’d just have to continue on.

  Many more suns rose and fell since then. They’d encountered that lioness seemingly just as many times as the moon passed overhead. Sometimes they would catch her stalking them, others she would appear just as they delivered the killing blow.

  “What a lazy lion, using us to do all the work.”

  “Why don’t we just kill her? She’s stolen so much from us!”

  “Do you want to be the first one to try and strike her with your spear?”

  “We could use bows. She’d be easy to hit.”

  “And hard to take down! Arrows would just make her mad. We may have had some kills taken from us, but we have also come back from every hunt whole,” said the lead hunter.

  “Didn’t even roar at us that time, just strolled in and expected us to leave.”

  “Yeah, and we did,” said one hunter, laughing.

  “It’s not right!”

  “She probably doesn’t attack us because
we’re her easy meal ticket. Besides, we still have yet to see any others show up. It wasn’t all that long ago we lost two good men when a group of lions appeared…”

  Among the group during the last few hunts was a new member, a youth who had completed his rite of passage to manhood scarcely ten sunrises ago. He kept quiet, as was expected of his station, but had paid careful attention to their conversation. He reflected on what had been said that night.

  A few days later, the hunters came upon the lioness as she relaxed in the shade of a stand of rocks and boulders in what had likely once been a riverbed. They were still cautious, of course, but the fear had gone. For once the wind had been with them, and the lioness had not taken notice. Confident they might not be tracked this time, they began to move out.

  The young hunter, however, pressed his hands together and bowed his head towards the lioness.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Offering my thanks,” said the young hunter.

  The others looked at each other in confusion. “For what?”

  “It has been many sunrises and sunsets and the season is even about to change! Yet none of us have been hurt. Without her, surely we would have had a fight with something that wished to make a meal of us by now. If I see her, I know our hunt will be successful, even if we’re not the ones who eat it.”

  A murmur went through the rest of the group. Some agreed, others dissented.

  And so the hunt went on. They were successful and even managed to bring home two animals without interference. Though, the following day was somewhat less fortunate with the lioness again claiming her share. Such was life.

  The rainy season came to a close, heralding the arrival of the warm, dry weather. And so did that season pass as the rains returned. The village’s crops had been harvested and re-sown. Fishing vessels skirted up and down the waterways. The hide tents were nearly all gone, replaced by dwellings of mud brick and thatched roofing. The population swelled on the cries of infants.