by Kel Kade
“Well, you might need to wear a shirt with long sleeves … and a glove. But, you’re a forester. You don’t see many people, right?”
Aaslo groaned. This was only going to perpetuate the foresters’ mystique. People already thought the foresters were mysterious creatures that swung from trees by their tails. A chill rushed through him, and Mathias began laughing uncontrollably.
He looked Teza directly in the eyes and said, “Am I going to grow a tail?”
Teza tilted her head and winked at him. “Do you want to grow a tail?”
“What? Of course not!”
Aaslo had to work hard to stand up. His body felt off-balance and kept tipping toward the left. He took a deep, steadying breath. Trying to ignore the piece of monster attached to his side, he looked around. They were still in the chasm, but the rest of the creature was farther uphill. He could see the heavy drag marks where Teza had pulled him downslope, and he understood why. A number of scavengers were picking at the carcass of the beast. Aaslo wondered if his arm was over there somewhere. He looked back at Teza. He could see the worry in her gaze. She was still waiting for his approval … or was it forgiveness? He knew she wouldn’t have cut off his arm if she didn’t think it was necessary. He couldn’t imagine what insanity had driven her to attach the beast’s arm to his body, but he knew she had tried her best to save him in the only way she could.
He solemnly said, “Thank you, Mage Catriateza.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she shook her head. “I’m not a full mage yet. I’ll never be.”
“You may be the only one left in Aldrea. That makes you the greatest magus in the world, and you’ve saved my life.” He lifted the disturbing arm and squeezed the hand again. “You gave me a new arm. You didn’t have to do that.”
She said, “I imagine it would be pretty hard to be a forester with only one arm.”
Aaslo nodded but continued to avoid looking at the part of him that had been replaced. He wasn’t ready to process that trauma. He said, “Where’s Dolt?”
Teza shrugged. “He grabbed my hair and practically dragged me from the cave. Then he ran off. That’s when I saw the monster in the distance. I worried that it had gotten you while you were out hunting.” Tears welled in her eyes again. “I thought you were dead when I found you. You can’t imagine how bad it was.” Then she burst into heaving sobs and threw herself into his arms. He wrapped his good arm around her as she cried. “I’m so sorry, Aaslo. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t even know what made me think to do it. I just reacted.”
He patted her back. “It’s okay, Teza. I’ll learn to cope. You did your best, and I appreciate that. You didn’t have to do anything at all, and probably no one else in the world would have hatched such a crazy plan.”
Teza wiped her eyes and looked upslope to where the scavengers were savaging the carcass. “I didn’t know dragons really existed. I thought they were myth.”
“So did I,” he said. “Do you really think it was a dragon?”
“Are you blind?”
“It has scales and wings and breathed fire,” she said. “What else could it be?”
“I thought dragons were bigger. They’re always much bigger in the stories.”
“Maybe the stories exaggerate.” She suddenly turned to him with worry. “Or maybe it was a baby dragon.”
Aaslo looked toward the sky with mounting anxiety. “We should get as far from here as possible.”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed,” said Teza.
“Agreed,” whispered Myropa.
She couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. That mess of a mage had cut Aaslo’s ruined arm from his body and replaced it with that of a monster—a dragon. She didn’t know if she should be pleased or horrified, but she was ecstatic that he had lived. She wanted to stay with him to make sure he was truly well. If he took a turn for the worse, she wanted to be the one at his side when he crossed. That was why she became particularly flustered when she felt the nagging call of a certain goddess.
Arayallen wasn’t in her white marble room or her disturbing gallery. She was in a garden filled with the most vibrant flowers Myropa had ever seen. The color seeped into the muted hues that had consumed Myropa’s vision since her death, and she was immensely grateful for the brief opportunity to see something so intensely beautiful.
The goddess waved her hand over a cut blossom. The petals elongated and turned a darker shade of crimson-orange. She tilted her head thoughtfully, and long yellow stamens shot from its core. Leaning over, she placed the blossom back onto the plant, which eagerly accepted it. The entire shrub erupted with the same crimson-orange blossoms a moment later.
Myropa stood mesmerized. She was certain she had just witnessed the creation of new life. She couldn’t imagine why the goddess would bless her with such an honor. Arayallen meandered through the garden without acknowledging her, and Myropa realized the goddess probably didn’t care that she might be interested or impressed.
“Well?” said Arayallen. “How did it go?”
Myropa drew her thoughts back together and said, “How did what go?”
Arayallen stopped to look at her as if she were dense. “The encounter with the dragon, of course.”
“That was you? You sent a dragon after Aaslo? I thought you wanted him to win.”
Arayallen rolled her eyes. “It was only a little dragon. He did survive, didn’t he?”
Myropa was furious. She wanted to scream at the goddess, but not only would it be foolhardy, it would be futile. “I thought he had died at first. He was very badly injured.”
Arayallen frowned. “Is he that weak?”
“He’s human,” said Myropa. “And he’s not a magus. Plus, he’s never seen a dragon and wasn’t expecting it.”
“Well, if he’s going to fight Axus’s forces, he’s going to have to start expecting the unexpected. And he’s going to need to be stronger. What happened?”
“The fledgling healer he travels with replaced his charred arm with that of the dragon.”
Arayallen tapped her lip as she nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting. I can work with that. I need you to do something.”
“Yes?” Myropa said hesitantly.
“I need you to visit Disevy to ask him for a boon.”
“What do you ask of him?” Myropa said.
Arayallen shook her head. “Not what I want. The request must come from you. He won’t even see me right now. I think he’s in one of his moods.”
“What makes you think he’ll see me or that he’ll do anything for me?” cried Myropa. “I’m just a reaper.”
Arayallen sighed. “I don’t know. I think it’s ridiculous, too, but you seem to have plucked his heartstrings. Or he’s playing some game with Trostili. I can’t tell, but I think he’ll see you, and you might have a chance at getting something out of him.”
“What is it you want me to get?” said Myropa.
“Strength,” replied Arayallen. “Not for you, of course. For the forester.”
“That’s it? Just strength?”
“Disevy decides how to distribute his blessings,” said Arayallen. “I just want him to decide to gift one.”
“But Axus and Trostili are members of his pantheon. Why would he work against them?”
“We’re not asking him to work against them.” She grinned at Myropa knowingly and said, “We’re only asking him to bless your Aaslo.”
Myropa dipped her head. “He’s not my Aaslo. He doesn’t even know me.”
“He could—someday,” said Arayallen.
“When he’s dead,” said Myropa, “for a minute. Then he and everyone else in my world will go to the Sea, and I will still be cursed.”
“Perhaps,” said the goddess. She waved a dismissive hand. “Go now. Go to Disevy.”
Before Myropa knew what was happening, she was standing in a forest surrounded by the most massive trees she had ever seen. A scuffle behind her caused her to turn, and she saw Disevy ambling
up a path. He wore clothes not unlike those of a forester, but he seemed to have no interest in the trees. He appeared troubled as he stared at the ground lost in thought.
Myropa jumped out of the way as he nearly walked right through her. He abruptly stopped and turned as if just noticing something was near. His eyes widened, and his expression softened. Reaching for her hand, he bent low to press a kiss to her fingers.
“Lovely Myropa, it pleases me to see you again.”
Myropa thought she would have blushed furiously if she had been capable of it. She said, “Greetings, Disevy. You look troubled.”
He suddenly bent down and swept her off her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck as best she could, considering his massive size, and he carried her through the forest as he spoke. “My dear, you have no idea. Difficult decisions weigh heavily on me.”
“I understand,” she said. “I, too, have many, although I rarely possess the power to make them of my own accord.”
“Is that so?” he said. “Which decisions would you care to make?”
She grinned up at him. “All of them.”
His booming laughter reverberated through her. “Would you not care to share some of them?” he said.
She tilted her head. “Perhaps, but that would also be my choice.”
He stroked her cheek and said, “I believe you had that freedom once, and you did not care for it.”
Myropa looked away in shame and whispered, “I cannot change the past.”
“Would you if you could?”
She said, “I have seen how hard others fight for lives worse than mine. I think I might have made a rash decision. I thought I was trapped. I thought I could never make up for my failures. I thought I didn’t deserve a better life, yet I couldn’t live with what I had. I can’t honestly say that I feel differently about that now, but I do think I could at least help others more deserving to succeed.”
When Disevy didn’t respond, she finally looked up at him. He wore the same concerned expression as when she had greeted him, and she thought he must have lost interest in her rambling. Then he met her gaze, and his own was filled with such grief, she thought she might fall into the pit of despair all over again.
He said, “It saddens me that you feel that way, Myropa, for when I see you, it is as if the sun has begun to shine on a vast, frozen wasteland. I feel like, if you just stayed long enough, it would completely melt, and life would bloom in places only ever touched by emptiness.”
Myropa stared at him, unable to form a response. From any other man or god, she would have thought the words trite, but Disevy delivered them with such sincerity, she could not help but believe them.
He said, “I feel it is a failure of mine that I cannot show you your value.”
Again, she was stunned into silence. He eventually settled her on the ground under a cascade of purple flowers that flowed from a massive wisteria. She lay back on a carpet of soft petals, and he settled beside her. As the branches directly above them separated, the sky darkened to a night unlike any Myropa had ever seen. It was a swath of purple and pink and blue and white, and it was bursting with stars that sparkled among brilliant swirls painted with artistic flare.
Disevy said, “Do you know what that is, my dear?”
“It’s wondrous,” said Myropa. “I’ve never imagined anything like it.”
“The people who first saw it called it nebula. It’s where Olios the Worldmaker creates new worlds and stars to light them. It’s a rather messy process, I gather, but the end result is worth it, I think.” Myropa stared in awe at the mix of colors and shimmering light. Never had she thought to see the place where worlds were born. Disevy finally turned to her and said, “Why did you come here, Myropa?”
She hesitated. She kept her gaze on the nebula as she said, “I must ask a favor.”
“I see,” he said with resignation.
“I’m sorry if I upset you.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head. “I know you did not come because you wished to see me.”
“No, it’s not that—”
He nodded. “Yes, it is. You do not think well enough of yourself to think I might wish to see you.” He looked at her and waited until she met his pointed stare. “Nor would you expect a favor from me.”
Myropa clamped her mouth shut. It was true. She would never have entertained the idea that Disevy, God of Virility, might want to see her or give her anything.
“The truth is, Arayallen sent me. She wishes a boon but thinks you more likely to grant it to me for some reason.”
Disevy propped himself up on one arm to look at her. “She wanted you to pretend it was your idea?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to lie to you.”
“I appreciate that,” he said as he plucked petals from a blossom. “What does Arayallen desire of me?”
“A blessing for a human on Aldrea.”
Disevy nodded. “Tell me. Do you desire this blessing as well?”
Myropa tilted her head and smiled, thinking of Aaslo. “I do.”
He hummed under his breath. “Arayallen knows you would never ask on your own.”
“I would never think of it,” Myropa said with a shake of her head.
He gazed deeply into her soul. “Why?”
Myropa was surprised by the question, sure he already knew the answer. “What have I done to deserve a blessing of a god?”
“But you do not ask for yourself,” he said. “You ask for someone else. Someone living.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I ask for someone I care about—someone who could save my world if given a chance.”
“You believe that?” he said.
“I do.”
“You speak of this forester that vexes Axus. I know who he is, and I know what he means to you.” He placed his finger under her chin and tilted her head up, ensuring that she was paying attention. He said, “I will grant him this blessing, Myropa, but I grant it for you.”
Her frozen heart fluttered, and she smiled cautiously. “What will you grant him?”
He stroked a thumb across her cheek. “That is for me to decide. Now, I need you to do something for me.” He held out his hand, opening it to reveal six shining stars. Myropa jumped in shock. She had never seen souls free of their vessels and uncontained.
“How did you get those?” she said in alarm.
“Do not concern yourself with that. I need you to carry them for me. It is imperative that Axus not get hold of these. Do you understand?”
“You want me to keep souls from Axus? How can I? He has only to look at me, and I am destroyed all over again.”
He stroked her hair lovingly with his free hand and said, “I know, fair Myropa. You will learn. Axus is strong, but he is not all-powerful. Regardless, he will have no idea that you have them, so you need not worry about him asking.”
“Demanding,” she muttered, and then glanced at him, abashed. She had no idea what he meant about learning to deal with Axus, and it didn’t seem as if he was willing to expound. She said, “Am I to take these to the Sea?”
“No, absolutely not,” he said with a cut of his hand through the air. “You must keep them with you. Don’t tell anyone you have them. This is between you and me.”
Myropa looked down at the souls in his hand and nodded. She opened her palm and manifested a clear orb. She pinched the orb between her thumb and forefinger and very carefully laid it over one of the loose souls. The orb pulsed, then turned pale blue once the first soul was contained. She repeated the process five more times, then attached them all to the string of souls that dangled from her belt.
When she looked at Disevy, he appeared fascinated. He met her gaze and said, “I’ve never seen this power in use. We don’t usually have loose souls in Celestria.”
“I didn’t think you had any,” she said.
He tilted his head and grinned with chagrin. “We don’t.”
“You—the gods, I mean—don’t create the souls, do
you?”
“No, we do not—just as we did not create the realms or time.”
“Then who did?”
With a shrug, he said, “I suppose whoever created us.”
“You mean there are other gods? Gods greater than you?”
“Perhaps. There are beings unlike us with great power—beings like the Fates. Who is to say there are not greater gods?”
“But, Arayallen said she designed Trostili.”
“Yes, she designed his body but not his soul.”
“You have souls as well?” Myropa said, thoroughly floored. “They must be very strong souls to hold so much power.”
He reached out and stroked her cheek again. “Souls are infinite, Myropa.”
Beginning to put the pieces together, she said, “Which means human souls hold power as well.” He nodded. “But humans cannot access it,” she said.
“To varying degrees,” he replied with a shrug. “Some, like your magi, have been gifted the ability to tap into a small amount.”
“But reapers have access to the Sea that’s filled with innumerable souls,” she said.
“So they do.”
“Axus does not,” she said, thoughtfully, “but he wants it badly.”
Disevy’s soft expression became serious. “He must never get it,” he said.
Without thinking, Myropa grabbed Disevy’s hand as she became filled with anxiety. “If Axus gains power through the process of death, then he stands to gain much power from destroying all life on Aldrea. What if this is his attempt to regain access to the Sea?”
He said, “My dear, that is why you must protect those six souls.”
CHAPTER 20
“How much longer?” said Mory.
“I don’t know,” replied Peck.
“But I’m tired of walking. We’ve been doing it forever. I think my feet are about to wear through my soles.”
Peck sighed. “I’ve told you five times already that we’ll be there soon. The man with the potato wagon assured us that we’re in Ruriton. He said it’s only a couple days’ walk to Dovermyer. That’s where the marquess has his estate.”