by
Marc H. Wyman & Chris Bogues
The
goddesses had covered the remaining distance to the dwarves in only a few
hours. Darktime had fallen. The jungle had grown more silent than in the
day, yet there was still plenty of noise to distract Maidoyú and make her
wonder which creature made the sound. A lonesome howl rose from the trees,
much like a wolf, yet with a shriller sound that she couldn’t identify.
She would have gladly investigated the hollering beast, but Taurkémad
kept plowing on through the thick of the jungle, and Maidoyú didn’t
want to be alone again. At least, not for a while.
Smoke
came from up ahead. She didn’t see any particular brightness through the
foliage, so she reasoned that it must be from a campfire by the dwarves.
Maidoyú wondered how the little creatures had started the fire. It must
be difficult to do so in this moist forest, when one couldn’t just make
a couple of burning logs appear.
“There
they are, my little dwarvies!” Taurkémad exclaimed happily.
Finally,
Maidoyú thought and started to brush the remaining branches aside –
when her companion instantly made those branches immobile for the weaker
goddess. “Why –“
“I
want to take a look at them first,” Taurkémad announced, while she
lifted herself several feet into the air and gently coasted closer to the
dwarves’ campsite. “To see how my little ones have made it so far,
without the aid of a god,” she added proudly when she was ready to peer
through the leaves.
Maidoyú
shrugged and joined her companion. The clearing ahead was very small, no
more than ten feet at its widest. Big enough for the eight dwarves huddled
around the dying fire between them. The twigs and branches were shoddily
arranged, by somebody who hadn’t had much experience in building a fire.
Why, even Maidoyú herself knew better than that! At least the dwarf had
taken care not to light any of the foliage around them, or the entire
jungle would have gone up in flames, she was sure.
“Eight
dwarves…” Taurkémad whispered, a mixture of excitement and
frustration in her voice.
“Yes,
there are eight,” Maidoyú confirmed, then a thought hit her. “Oh,
didn’t you say there were only four? And weren’t they only males?”
Taurkémad
swallowed hard, but didn’t answer.
What
was she so worried about? All right, there were now eight of them. Maidoyú
was quite sure that four of the dwarves were female, since they had no
beards and their faces seemed a bit softer than those of the males. They
were more like basalt, instead of the masculine granite. But… “They
don’t look right, do they? The women, I mean. They’re so swollen
up.”
Taurkémad’s
voice was raspy when she answered, “They are pregnant.”
“Pregnant?
You mean like animals? I thought sapients couldn’t have youngens.”
The
other goddess didn’t reply. Maidoyú sighed. All this seriousness, just
because somebody had toyed around with the dwarves. After all, that
happened often, didn’t it? You make something, then a deity from another
abode comes along and changes it. Why, those villagers in the midrealm,
nearly all the gods there were had taken a part in their creation. Maidoyú
hadn’t, of course. She had never been interested enough.
“You
should be happy,” Maidoyú decided after a moment. “There are going to
be even more dwarves for you to like.”
“Animals!”
Taurkémad rasped and turned away from the sight. “My dwarvies have
become animals.”
Maidoyú
frowned. One of the dwarves, a male, put his hand around a woman and spoke
to her in a guttural voice. The speech wasn’t as clear and well-defined
as that of a god, but it was language. “Animals don’t talk. The
dwarves are still sapient. So they have children… I wonder what dwarven
children look like, and how they act!” More and more enthusiastic, she
remembered the various young ones she had seen of other species –
animals, yes, but those very little ones had been so cute! How they tried
to figure out how to walk, or how to fly, and all of that! “I really
want to see those children, you know, Taurkémad? They must be precious.
Oh, come on, look at them! They’re still your dwarvies. Taurkémad?”
The
other goddess didn’t answer. Maidoyú still sensed her in the vicinity,
but now her companion had taken much higher to the air. She floated up as
well, bubbling with the desire to talk about dwarven children. Yet looking
at Taurkémad’s face, she realized that words would drive her off,
leaving Maidoyú alone again.
So
she resigned herself to silence, waiting for her companion to speak first.
The
fire below died down. The dwarves settled down to sleep, paired off as
they already were. Did they have names? Maidoyú wondered. She could think
of several for each of them, but perhaps they had chosen for themselves.
Now that was fascinating. Creatures choosing for themselves! And they
would have to teach their children the art of choosing, too. She
desperately wanted to dive down to the dwarves, perhaps take their form,
and share their little adventure. But, no, there was still her companion.
“Decirius
promised,” Taurkémad whispered. “He promised that the dwarves would
stay in their cave, untouched by another abode. We made them. We
put so much work into them! I wanted to see how much they could become.
They were supposed to be the perfect sapients, unlike the hodge-podge
villagers and elves. All that work – and then some fool couldn’t keep
his dirty hands away from them! They’re ruined!”
“Ruined?
How can you say that!” Maidoyú cried. Why did these words hurt so much?
“They can have children now. That’s… that isn’t bad! They have all
the space of the mortal world to explore, so much more than their dark
little cave, and they can teach their children. Oh, Taurkémad, imagine
how the parents walk their little ones around – that’ll be just like
we have the other sapients, right?”
Taurkémad
finally looked at her. Coldly, she said, “They are not gods. They are
only sapients. We gave them intelligence, and they pay us back by their
worship. Having children, sapients will start to see themselves as
deities. I will not have my dwarves forget their proper places.
Move aside.”
The
cold voice seemed to bite into Maidoyú’s heart. “Why? What are you
going to do?”
“I
told you to move aside, child,” Taurkémad snarled. “I’ll take my
dwarves back to their cave where they belong, and those new dwarves –
I’ll teach them polluting my good creatures!”
She
wants to destroy the women! Maidoyú realized with sudden fright. But
the females were pregnant, they would give birth to little dwarves. And
she wanted to watch the children! “No, please,” she said, “let them
live. They –“
A
whirlwind suddenly caught hold of Maidoyú, twisting her away, whirling
her about herself, like a twig in a hurricane. Meanwhile Taurkémad shot
down towards the camp. I can’t let her do that! Maidoyú screamed
to herself – then caused a hurricane of her own to thrust Taurkémad
aside.
The
goddess crashed into a giant tree, waking a flock of birds that scattered
in moments. Taurkémad stared up, her eyes full of fiery anger.
“Please
stop,” Maidoyú shouted. “Just don’t hurt them, and we can talk, and
–“
Taurkémad
hurled a bolt of lightning up, its bright discharge rushing towards Maidoyú.
The goddess dodged, and without thinking sent a bolt of her own into the
treetop. She hadn’t aimed.
Neither
had she needed to.
Stupefied
she watched the entire tree light up for a heartbeat, then it blinked out
of existence. As easy as that. Flakes of ash rained down, along with the
body of Taurkémad who dropped out of the sky. The goddess fell on a
smaller tree, setting it aflame with the heat still in her, then she
crashed to the ground, her body twisted and mangled.
The
fire of the second tree spread to the next, closer to the dwarves. Maidoyú
had to protect them, and moments later a sudden rainstorm doused the fire.
Taurkémad
still didn’t move. She should have come back up again, shouldn’t she?
She was stronger than Maidoyú, after all. Not that they had ever compared
strength, not that Maidoyú had ever cared, but…
She
suddenly felt cold. Only a little while earlier had she killed the
harsnett. And now?
“No,”
Maidoyú breathed a sigh of relief. She could still sense Taurkémad with
her. The goddess hadn’t died, she was only unconscious.
Only
unconscious? What have I done?
“I’ve…”
She frowned, trying to come to terms with something very unfamiliar. “I
have protected the children.”
Perhaps
she had found her purpose, after all.
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