by
Marc H. Wyman & Chris Bogues
The
village was quiet. If one listened closely, one could hear soft snoring
from more than one of the huts, buildings that looked as if they had grown
from the grassy ground. They hadn’t, of course, Lonapal knew. His fellow
gods had created them along with the ground, given them a shape that they
had felt pleasing. One that the villagers had taken to happily, the God of
Light smiled.
He
walked through the single road bisecting the circular settlement, towards
the central plaza. The only source of light in darktime came from there, a
ball of blue fire that hovered over the marble tiles. This was where the
villagers worshipped the gods, every morning, every noon, and every
evening. They were faithful and good, Lonapal knew. The villagers loved
their existence, and they loved their gods.
As
well they should. The gods loved them.
Well,
Lonapal did.
Filled
with a sense of mirth and belonging, he suddenly stopped when he saw
somebody standing under the ball of fire, completely unconcerned that her
head was doused by the blue flames.
“Alyssa?”
Lonapal cried in surprise.
“Shhhh,”
the goddess grinned and put a finger to her lips. “You don’t want to
wake the locals, do you?”
He
rolled his eyes exasperatedly. Alyssa was one goddess he never knew how to
approach. The others, well, in the past millenia he had come to understand
them rather well. Or at least, he thought he had. Alyssa, though,
surprised him more often than she did what he expected her to do.
Nonetheless he liked that about her. Much more than her brother Darawk who
could always be counted on to dive like a hawk at any piece of knowledge
and envelop that piece for next to an eternity until he knew everything
there was to be learned.
“Come
out of there, please,” Lonapal said and sat down on one of the stone
benches arrayed around the plaza. He patted the bench next to him. Alyssa
grinned, then she walked over, her hazel hair completely untouched by the
blue fire.
“Come
here often?” she whispered as she sat down next to Lonapal and let her
arm droop over the back of the bench.
Lonapal
took a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, I do. I like these people.”
“So
do I. Fine creations.” Alyssa frowned, looking at one part of the
village where a hut used to stand. Now a blackened skeleton of support
struts remained, the remains of furniture an ashen white amidst the rubble
of stones. “What happened there?”
The
god sighed. “Koultirsp. What else? She claimed that the villagers
hadn’t praised her enough during worship, and so she punished them.”
“Koultirsp,”
Alyssa said sourly. “She’s one spoilsport. What did the villagers
do?”
A
smile crept onto Lonapal’s lips. “They decided not to worship
Koultirsp for a whole day. Stubborn little folks, these are.”
Alyssa
chuckled.
Lonapal
laughed, put his arm around her shoulders. The goddess leaned against him,
her arm sneaking up to embrace his shoulders as well. “Could it be,”
Alyssa grinned at him, “that your presence here has something to do with
that?”
“Oh,
absolutely not,” Lonapal said. “And neither does the fact that
Koultirsp is currently pouting somewhere in the Eternal City because the
rest of the huts haven’t gone up in flames as she’d wanted to.”
“You
do spoil these villagers,” the goddess laughed.
“As
do you,” Lonapal said and tickled her shoulder. Alyssa quickly moved
away from him, darting a half-angry, half-amused look at him. Lonapal
laughed again, then frowned and smiled, “You look like one of the
villagers!”
Alyssa
raised one of her thin, exquisite eyebrows. “Don’t I always? I dropped
the elven look a long time ago, Lonapal. That is so… well, so
much the last millenium.”
“No,”
he chuckled. “I meant your clothes!”
“Oh?”
She looked down at herself, wearing a simple, brown cotton dress that –
of course – fitted her perfectly. A red belt was wound around her hips,
riding rather high, with a simple oval buckle at the front. The simplicity
only managed to enhance her beauty. “I wanted to be suitably dressed,
that is all,” she waved the thought away, then reconsidered and asked
coyly, “Did I succeed?”
Lonapal
was about to answer when one of the doors near to the two of them opened a
crack, and a pinkish face peered cautiously out at them. Graciously
Lonapal leaned forward and smiled at the villager, giving her a slight
wave. The woman’s face paled suddenly, and she fell to her knees,
folding her hands quickly and murmuring a prayer.
The
god’s face fell. “Oh, please…” he whispered.
Alyssa
patted him on the shoulder, then got up and walked over to the villager, a
serene light gradually starting to outline her frame. “Rise, woman,”
she said gently.
The
villager woman stayed on the floor, her eyes fastened to one of the tiles
of the plaza.
Alyssa
knelt down as well, reached out one hand to touch the villager’s arm.
“I have told you to rise, have I not?”
“But…
you are…”
“Yes,
I am,” Alyssa confirmed and laughed heartily. “So you’d better obey,
isn’t that right?”
Now
the villager looked up, straight at the open and merry eyes of the
goddess. “I…”
Alyssa
softly stroked the woman’s arm. “There is a time for worship, and
there is a time for rest. Darktime is meant for the latter, little one.
Tell me, what is your name?”
“My…”
The woman nearly choked on the words, entranced as she was by the look of
her goddess’ face, so close to her own. “Caltraya,” she finally
whispered.
Alyssa’s
eyes brightened. “Caltraya,” she repeated. “That’s a pretty name.
I like it. Now, Caltraya – may I call you Callie? Callie, go back to bed
and sleep. Remember us at worship, will you?”
“Of
course, of course, my lady!”
“Now
go back, Callie.” Alyssa gave her a slight push, and the villager woman
hurried back inside her hut. Slowly she closed the door, so she didn’t
offend the goddess by slamming the wood in her face, but Caltraya still
managed to do this very fast.
The
goddess was still laughing lightly when she returned to the bench and
Lonapal.
Lonapal
shook his head. “You know that from now on she’ll insist that
everybody addresses her as Callie, don’t you?”
“Well…”
Alyssa shrugged. “That sounds pretty, too. As pretty as that girl is. Do
you have any idea who made her?”
Oh,
yes, only Alyssa could have asked something like that, Lonapal thought
affectionately. He himself had never wondered about that, not that he
could remember right now. And with a tinge of disappointment he had to
shake his head and say, “I have no idea. Sorry.”
“Ah,
whoever it was,” the goddess smiled and leaned back against him, “he
or she did a good job. I like her.” She pulled his chin towards her.
“Look out for her tomorrow, all right? Just in case Koultirsp tries
something again?”
Lonapal
nodded graciously. “You know that I would have done that without your
plea.”
“So?”
Alyssa grinned. “At least now I can pretend you do something for me.”
How,
Lonapal wondered, gazing into those deep, brown eyes of her, could she
ever consider herself the sister of Darawk? Oh, yes, Lonapal liked
the God of Knowledge, as much as anyone could like somebody as
singlemindedly devoted to garnering new information. But he was so meek,
so boring, whereas Alyssa – she was bold and dashing, always after a new
adventure, wherever she could find it. She was so vibrant, so alive! And
yet she spent so much time with her brother…
Lonapal
just didn’t understand. Maybe he should ask her?
Instead
he wrapped his arms around her, enjoying how she pressed herself against
him, and neither said a word.
Not
until the ball of blue fire in the plaza suddenly changed its hue, turning
golden for a moment, and then seemed to disgorge the familiar figure of
Haguen. The guardian wasted no time with looking at his surroundings but
marched straight towards the other two gods.
Both
disentangled themselves quickly from each other. “What is the matter?”
Lonapal asked quickly.
Haguen
paused to nod an acknowledgement to Alyssa, then turned to the God of
Light. “You are all required to return to the Eternal City now. Decirius
has decreed that all the gods have to stay inside the city for the next
sixty days. No visits to the midrealm or the mortal world are
permitted.”
“Excuse
me?” Alyssa shot up from the bench. “What in blazes is this about?! I
am not going to stay cooped up in that marble cage for sixty days!
And why should I?”
“Because
Decirius has said you must,” Haguen said simply.
Lonapal
rose and faced the guardian. “That is not sufficient. Surely Decirius
has given a reason why this would be necessary?”
Unperturbed
Haguen shook his head. “No, he hasn’t. Decirius is our lord, and it is
within his powers to command us back to the city.”
“Oh,
it’s that simple?” Alyssa shouted, barely noticing that her voice was
loud enough to wake up every single villager. “Well, he can just forget
about that. Go back to the city and tell Decirius that –“
Her
voice was cut off when the fireball turned golden once again, and now the
chief god himself emerged from the flames. “What,” his icy voice
asked, “should Haguen tell me?”
His
appearance might have cowed Darawk (Lonapal certainly thought so), but its
only effect on Alyssa was that she pushed Haguen aside and strode right
over to confront the chief god. “Just one thing, Decirius. Lighten up!
Stop this charade, and tell me whatever possessed you to come up with this
idiotic order!”
Decirius
lowered his head slightly. “I am sorry if you think this little of me,
Alyssa. I am aware how much this is an infringement on your freedom as a
goddess, and it pains me having to curb those liberties. Nonetheless, it
is necessary.”
“Oh,
yes? And what makes that necessary?!”
“That,
dear Alyssa,” Decirius said and raised one hand, “you will learn when
it is time. As of now, my word is enough. And my word says…” His hand
suddenly fell down, and instead of the village’s plaza, all of the gods
were standing at the gate of the Eternal City, its barred valves only a
few feet away. “My word says,” Decirius said coldly, “that you are
to remain here for sixty days. That is all you need to know.”
Alyssa
wildly looked about herself, then stepped forward to grab the lapels of
Decirius robe and shout, “How dare you –“
His
cold voice interrupted her, “I am the God of Justice, and I am your
lord, Alyssa.” No sooner had he finished speaking that Decirius stood
five feet away from the goddess, completely calm and unruffled by her
outburst. The goddess’ hands were clasping empty air, and with a look of
growing fury she glanced towards the chief god. “Alyssa,” Decirius
continued, “I understand your outburst, and I forgive it. That is just.
It is also just that noone is allowed to leave the Eternal City for sixty
days. Please, do not try it. Haguen, lock down the gate and all the other
exits. I want every path in and out of the Eternal City barred.” He gave
each of the other gods – including Haguen – a hard look, then he
nodded to himself. “That will be all,” Decirius said. And disappeared,
off to his study.
Lonapal
frowned. He felt odd. Like… No, he knew of no comparison that was apt to
this situation. Somehow he wasn’t free to do all he pleased to do,
and… he didn’t like it, as little as Alyssa did.
And,
with some surprise, he realized that Haguen didn’t appreciate the order
that much, either. The guardian composed his face into a mask of dutiful
obeisance, but there was a tinge of disbelief and lack of understanding
behind that façade. With a slight jerk to his motions he walked over to
the gate, stroked each valve, his fingers leaving a slight sparkle behind.
Lonapal could feel the sparkle resonate in himself, could feel the nature
of the gate change to something impenetrable. And Haguen walked on,
trailing his fingers over the wall next to the gate, clearly intent on
making the circumference of the Eternal City, closing it as he had been
told to.
Nothing
like this had ever happened. Decirius, proving his superiority over them
in this manner? No, it had never happened. It had been inconceivable.
And
yet, it had just occurred. Lonapal shook his head, walked frowning away
from the gate, back to his home. He half expected Alyssa to run after him,
involve him in a conversation about this. As a matter of fact, he would
have liked that. But she didn’t. Lonapal had to think about this alone,
and perhaps that was the best way to do this.
Back
in the midrealm, in the village, a woman stood frozen at the window of her
hut, staring at the empty plaza and the ball of blue fire. Despite the
loudness of Alyssa’s scream, none of the others had dared look out their
windows. Only this woman had seen how three gods had been whisked away
against their will by another god, a dark and ill-boding figure. And one
of those deities had been kind to her.
Caltraya
clasped a hand to her chest. “I… will worship you tomorrow, my lady
Alyssa,” she whispered and wondered frantically what to make of the
scene she had just witnessed.
|
