by
Marc H. Wyman & Chris Bogues
XXIII. The
Eagle's Flight
“Whatever
is he doing up there?” Koultirsp muttered. For a change she had taken a
humanoid form, albeit one that had three arms, the additional limb growing
from her belly, with a brown skin that resembled a tree’s bark. Now she
was craning her head back, gazing up into the blue sky over the Eternal
City, peering at two small specks that were circling high above her.
“Having
fun?” Shenaumac suggested. He was seated on a pile of rubble that had
once been a building, before Koultirsp had decided she hated its
appearance. The god was toying with a small piece of stone, throwing it
into the air and snatching it right away. Sure enough, the perpetual
motion was annoying Koultirsp.
The
goddess shook her head and snarled, “What do I care about the fool? This
Lonapal should never have been a god in the first place, he doesn’t have
the brains to do anything worthwhile. Air and light, wonderful tasks for a
deity! Put a sapient in his place, and the sun would still rise the
same.” She glared at Shenaumac. “As for you – why don’t you go
play with your stupid cat? That’s all the two of you are good for. Playing.”
She twisted the word in the air, spelling it out in twisted, red letters
that danced around the god’s head for a moment before fading out.
Shenaumac
looked at the spectacle with a soft smile. “You haven’t found anybody
to torment, have you? All locked up in the Eternal City, with no sapients
or creatures to torture. How sad you are, Tirspie.”
“Don’t
call me that!” Koultirsp raised her middle arm, ready to throw
lightning.
The
god laughed. “You know that you can’t hurt me. We’ve been through
that already.”
She
stared at him angrily, then made the third arm vanish, huff and start
walking off. Up above the eagle cried happily, flying a circle around
Lonapal who joined in the cheerful cry. Koultirsp stopped and glared at
the two of them, tapping her fingers on her thighs.
“There’s
one creature right here that I can torment,” she muttered. “Are you
going to protect that one as well, Shenaumac?”
“Tirspie,
Tirspie, Tirspie,” the god shook his head. “That’s Lonapal’s pet.
You have to take the matter up with him. But, come to think of it,
haven’t you already measured your strength with his in the midrealm
village? Let me think… Who was the victor in that combat? Could it be,
mmh –“
“Shut
up!” the goddess yelled and flung a ball of fire at him. The flames
dissipated around the god, flaking down to the pile of rubble. Shenaumac
chuckled, while Koultirsp groaned in sudden frustration and stormed off. A
short while later, a rumbling noise started when she tore down other
buildings in the vicinity.
The
god picked up a couple of pieces of rubble and threw them at the nearest
wall, hitting a statue’s head perfectly each time. After he’d thrown
the last piece, he casually strolled down the pile of rubble and walked in
the direction Koultirsp had gone. “My, you’re angry,” he smiled and
whistled when he saw the zone of destruction the goddess had left behind
her. Entire blocks had been leveled, smoke rising from a few of them. A
fountain had been smashed, its water dripping over the remains. Mannannan
would not be happy about this, he thought and frowned. Perhaps he could
extend his game?
“No,”
he sighed. He was already juggling with plenty of balls, one more might be
too difficult.
Besides…
Shenaumac turned invisible, masked his presence, and hurried up a slope of
rubble towards a single surviving spire, rising like a flagpole from the
debris. On its top, claws dug deep into the stone, was a small,
gray-and-black cat, its eyes peering intently into the distance –
directly at a new site of destruction. The cat bared its fangs and hissed.
“You
know, Taurk,” Shenaumac said as he snatched the cat up into his arms,
“a cat has a terrific sense of smell. You could tell that I was here,
invisible or not.”
The
cat hissed in his face, then cried in Taurkémad’s voice, “Put me
down!”
She
fought against his grip, but Shenaumac quickly grew a third arm and
stroked her back in gentle motions. “Try this first, all right?”
“Put
me down!” she repeated, but her voice had grown more mellow. Twitches
ran through her fur, as the cat’s muscles started to relax.
Involuntarily, she started to purr.
“See?
That’s a good kitty.”
“I
am not a cat!”
“Right
now,” Shenaumac grinned, “you are. Thank you, by the way, for choosing
this shape. It’s pretty good for hunting, isn’t it?”
The
Taurkémad cat stretched and yawned, while he continued stroking her, then
she said, “You’ve added claws and fangs, God of Sharpened Things.
That’s what’s made the cat shape so interesting. But did you – mmmmh
– have to do this purring and stroking thing?”
He
shifted her weight around so he could scratch under her head. Obligingly
Taurkémad stretched out her neck. “Really,” she whispered, “I’ve
got to go, she’s –“
“Tirspie
isn’t going anywhere,” Shenaumac assured her. “You can always find
her again. Just look for the nearest disaster area.”
The
goddess mewed in response, arching her back for some more stroking. While
Shenaumac obliged her, she whispered, “I’ve been following her for two
days now. She’s been changing shapes more rapidly than ever before. Damn
her, she likes fooling around with shapes.”
“True.
And she’s angry about Lonapal having found a pet of his own. Did you
notice the eagle?”
“Yes,
I did,” Taurkémad moaned – suddenly slipping out of the god’s hands
at the first moment of inattention. She leaped to the ground and
immediately resumed her normal appearance. Self-consciously she
straightened her clothes, trying to keep from using her tongue to clean
the vanished fur. “Well,” she shrugged, “that was an interesting
experience. Thank you, Shenaumac. I had no idea you could be this kind.”
“I
like cats.”
“Obviously,”
Taurkémad nodded. She glanced up into the sky. Lonapal was still flying
with the eagle, drawing curved lines over the sky. “Koultirsp. He’d
better watch out before she changes his eagle into a turtle or who knows
what else.”
“She
might just kill it.”
Taurkémad
folded her arms under her breasts. “Do you really think so? What would
hurt him more – and what would give the shape-shifting lady the most
pleasure? She has to alter creatures. Like my dwarvies.”
Another
building fell to Koultirsp’s wrath. But this time its destruction
wasn’t the only sound, for a voice started yelling furiously. Mannanan.
The goddess must have destroyed one of his houses, or his fountains.
“Better
watch out for your cat,” Taurkémad warned. “You never know whom
she’s going to hurt next.” She shook her head quickly, clearing the
cobwebs away, then she changed back into a cat and raced across the rubble
towards Koultirsp and Mannannan, to observe unnoticed.
Left
alone, Shenaumac smiled. “Thank you for your attention,” he said and
bowed graciously. “But I directed her fury towards more pleasant
targets.” He shrugged. “Like yourself, for instance.”
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