Gale & Hymn Read online

  She rose to her feet, held her head as a throbbing headache assailed her temples, and looked around for the axe. It stuck out of the rubble of the furniture like a flag shoved into the mud and dirt of a former battlefield. She pulled it out of the remains of the captain’s bed, hefted it in her arms, and kept it at her side while she stumbled out of the cabin.

  The bodies of her fallen brethren had disappeared along with the dead of Thotrix’s servants, likely claimed by the ocean. Water flowed across the deck outside the captain’s cabin and tried its best to wash the blood away too, but some stains were too ingrained in the wood to ever vanish.

  She could hear whispering, around the corner, and prepared for another confrontation. Phoxene’s master may have ordered her to crash the ship far from the empire, but Iorvil couldn’t be sure she’d not brought them straight to their allies instead. If someone recognized her as a barbarian, a faithful of the god of time, she would have to fight.

  She crept along the deck which had once housed a luxurious dining hall alongside its cannons, before they’d attacked, but now seemed to have lost most of its chairs and weaponry. They must have fallen out of the holes during the jump.

  Thotrix’s servants should have hammered those to the deck like they’d hammered their precious silk carpets and long tables. The carpets may have been stained with the blood, but they’d survived. Every single one from what she could tell. Some of the tables had been split in half, probably after they’d crashed. Others had only sustained large cracks.

  She caught movement by one of the holes in the hull to her right, stopped walking, and gripped her axe hard. It was the largest hole she’d seen in the hull so far, yet the creatures that appeared had to bend down to enter the ship through it.

  They didn’t seem to detect her in the darkness, despite how she made no attempt to hide. There were only two of them, and while the creature with the curled horns carried a rapier, she was too distracted by the other to pose a threat.

  These would not be allies of the empire. They looked too plain to fit in among Thotrix’s servants. At worst, they might be soldiers who would report they’d found the crashed ship to their superior officer, but they dressed more like regular working women. Commoners.

  Iorvil lowered her axe, hid it behind her back, and considered alerting them to her presence before she spooked them. She couldn’t understand a word they whispered to each other, but if she cleared her throat, coughed, they would notice her.

  They didn’t resemble humans with their tails and green bodies, yet she prayed they would extend a helping hand nonetheless. If Rhabour was on her side, he would not have brought her before hostile creatures. He would have found her a new beginning. These two might be good-natured spirits who would do everything in their power to provide her with what she sought. The end of one circle should mark the beginning of another.

  Someone snapped their fingers next to her ear. “Allow me to bridge the language barrier, mortal. Do you have a name?”

  Iorvil spun around, thought she saw a third creature grin in her face while they observed her with blood-red, burning irises, and bumped the axe into the wall. No one stood anywhere near her, but one of the creatures who’d entered through the hull yelped when she gave her presence away by accident.

  The horned creature raised her rapier, pointed it at Iorvil, while she forced the other to step behind her. Iorvil could appreciate an act of bravery, even if she’d not meant to make them think she was their enemy.

  “She’s huge.” The creature without horns whispered. “A giant.”

  “If she doesn’t drop the axe, you should run away screaming, Hymn. That way, you’ll survive to warn the town, while I die a hero.” The creature with horns grinned. “I already wrote a ballad about my own heroics, should I pass away prematurely.”

  “I won’t leave you, Gale,” Hymn whispered. “Don’t be silly.”

  “I’d rather you left me than died unarmed,” Gale said. “You’re silly.”

  Iorvil furrowed her brow. She’d not understood the pair a minute ago, but now they spoke clearly and loudly enough for her to hear. She must assume the third creature had been their god, and their god had helped her understand its worshippers. Quite strange, but she would take it as a beneficial sign. Rhabour would not want her to start a new war with another deity.

  To show her gratitude for the gift of knowledge she’d been given, she held her axe out at her side, dropped it on the deck, and raised her hands above her head. Gale and Hymn recoiled at the sound of the axe hitting the deck. She didn’t like to disarm when she didn’t know where Phoxene hid, but it would be for the best in the long run if she could ally herself with these two.

  “She’s surrendering?” Hymn asked.

  “You bet it’s cause she’s never seen anyone like us before and she thinks we’re her gods?” Gale snorted. “Humans are so dense.“

  “You shouldn’t—“

  “I’m not surrendering,” Iorvil said and placed her foot on her axe. “I’m demonstrating I’m not hostile. Overlook my giant stature, as it is, and let me assure you I’m neither dense nor deaf.”

  Gale stared in disbelief but lowered the rapier a tad. Hymn remained behind her. A moment passed where they watched each other, both sides waiting for the other to do something that would prove they were an enemy, but no one moved to attack.

  Iorvil wondered if the pair was related to each other since, with the exception of Gale’s horns, they almost looked identical. If they’d been human, she would have believed them if they’d told her they were twins. Keepers viewed twins as one soul traversing time in different bodies. Thotrix’s servants captured them to test their inventions.

  “Where are you from?” Hymn asked. “You don’t look like you come from these lands, yet we understand each other perfectly. How come?”

  “I hail from the Voiceless Mountains.” Iorvil hadn’t seen their snow-covered peaks in years, but she’d grown up in the highlands on the northern edge of the empire. She doubted she’d return there, in her current lifetime, if there even was anything left to return to. The empire crushed everything. “Your—“

  “Never heard of ‘em.” Gale stepped closer, as if to test her reaction. “Have you heard of Lho Allanar? Algora? Xenthien?”

  “No, I…” She paused. Algora sounded familiar, as if someone had mentioned it once, but she couldn’t place it. “Haven’t heard of those countries in this life.” She looked at Hymn hiding behind Gale, smiled, and answered the woman’s other question. “I believe your god granted us mutual understanding. If you know of a suitable offering for such a gift, I’d like to make it in their honour.”

  Hymn shuddered and turned around in a rush to leave the ship. Gale grabbed her by her arm to stop her.

  Iorvil had never seen someone react so disrespectfully to their own god before. She didn’t like it. They might all be struck dead by lightning if they didn’t show the gods their appreciation. Although, maybe the third creature she’d seen had not been their god then. Maybe it had been something else.

  “Do you not like your god?” She asked. “I saw another horned creature. She—“

  “You shouldn’t mention our god. It’s bad luck.” Gale shrugged. “Even if you’ve never heard of these lands, I’m sure you’ve heard of the goddess of love? Right? Your people probably encountered her.”

  “Possibly.” Iorvil hadn’t heard of a goddess of love. Her people had viewed such an emotion as an exploitable weakness, while they’d existed. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to be indebted to any other deity than Rhabour. “Can I thank her somehow?”

  “You can, by keeping your mouth shut!” Hymn snapped. “Our goddess doesn’t want gratitude. She’ll upend your life because it amuses her. No matter what you do, it won’t be enough. Our existence is a joke to her. If you draw attention, we might all get caught in your misfortune.” She pulled her arm out of Gale’s grasp and turned toward the hole again. “I’m leaving. You talk to her, Gale. You’d at least su
it each other, if worst came to pass.”

  “Much bigger than I imagined.” Gale smirked, shook her head, and lowered her gaze to the deck with a playful expression. “More to explore.”

  “This is why I don’t like you.” Hymn stopped in the middle of the hole. “You jest about serious matters, when you know what our mothers endured. If Furore had made another choice, somewhere, we would never have been born. Hope or Venviel would have died.”

  Iorvil couldn’t keep up with the differences in their cultures. She’d heard about relationships between women, warriors or keepers who didn’t see their husbands for years, but what was that about mothers? They had two?

  “I wish you did like me.”

  “Sorry to intrude on this…” Iorvil didn’t know why they started arguing in front of her, but it might be best to distract them. “If it’s not too much to ask, I’d appreciate every bit of help you could offer. I swear on Rhabour I won’t harm anyone, but I’ve no idea where I am. My head hurts. I haven’t eaten or drunk anything in… Don’t know how long.”

  “We’ll let you come with us to Caelora if you surrender your axe,” Hymn said.

  “And any other weapon you might have hidden on your person.” Gale added.

  Iorvil removed her foot from her axe and kicked it across the deck to them. “Done.”

  “Anything else we should know about?” Gale asked and tried to lift the axe off the deck but failed to budge it. She slid her rapier back into its scabbard, tried with both hands, and groaned as she exerted strength on the weapon but failed again. “If there’s something you’re not telling us, gonna be a problem later.”

  “There’s a…” She hesitated.

  “Yes?” Hymn fixated her with a fierce look that reminded her she’d willingly disarmed. Gale might care about her height, but Hymn might as well not notice how she would tower over her if they stood closer together. She brought to mind Jerfell and his indomitable will.

  “There was another woman on the ship, someone dangerous, but I don’t know where she’s gone. She’d left when I woke up.”

  “Thank you for telling us.” Hymn nodded. “If you prevent her from harming our people, my mother is bound to welcome you into Caelora. She’s kind.”

  “Hope’s got a true stay as long as you like attitude.” Gale gave up on trying to lift the axe, put her hands on her hips, and glanced at Iorvil. “You wouldn’t mind… you know…”

  “I can carry my axe myself, but then I wouldn’t have disarmed, would I?”

  “I think we can make an—“

  “I guess not.” Hymn interrupted Gale. “I guess you best leave it on the beach.”

  “I…” She would have argued, as she might lose the axe if she left it unattended, but she wouldn’t receive help if she did. “Fair.”

  “Come on then,” Hymn said.

  Iorvil moved toward the pair. At least she’d found a bed for a night with the potential promise of more if she convinced the leader of Caelora, Hope, to let her stay. Rhabour might indeed be smiling on her. She only needed to remember to not mention the goddess of love, since it was bad luck around these parts.

  Phoxene roared above them. Water rushed off the deck, the ship lifted from the beach.

  Iorvil had the foresight to wrap her legs around the nearest table and catch Hymn and Gale when they fell because the ship rolled without consideration for anyone. She realized she should have told them that the ship could fly, if that woman she’d mentioned was around, but she’d only woken up minutes ago.

  The ship lurched.

  She embraced the pair with her arms to prevent them from flying out of the holes in the hull and falling to their deaths. She imagined she’d have to beg them for forgiveness after what was about to happen.

  For their sake, she hoped they’d not exchanged harsh words with their mothers when they’d last seen each other. Maybe she ought to toss them out of the hull and pray they survived the fall. She would have done it, if she’d believed someone would have caught them, but she could not kill innocents because she panicked. Rhabour would not forgive her.

  “Amazing!” Gale laughed and watched her surroundings like she was the first mortal to discover fire. “How are you doing this?”

  “Bad luck,” Hymn muttered, scratched at Iorvil’s thick arms with her nails, and made a brave attempt to free herself. She smelled of soap.

  “Terrible, really.” Iorvil agreed. “Not death, however.”

  Hymn stopped scratching her, scowled, and cried as if she’d known this particular day would always come. Yet only now could she accept how escape had never existed.

  The ship jumped.

  Pleasant Nightmare

  The ship rose out of the ocean, freed itself of water like a captured wild animal freeing itself of its chains, and hung mid-air for a moment before it vanished in a massive, green bauble. Furore had seen a lot during her centuries as a goddess and succubus, but nothing compared to the magic on display tonight.

  “You think I made a mistake?”

  “Might’ve been slavers.” Fate yawned, summoned the glass ball in her lap, and ran her golden fingers across its smooth surface. “Cannibals.”

  Furore was glad she wouldn’t have to explain this conundrum to Hope or Venviel. She didn’t have to answer their prayers, even if they would beg her to explain why their daughters had disappeared. It wasn’t her fault. Who knew ships could fly?

  “Got your list?”

  “Hmm…? Oh.” Furore pulled the top of the endless scroll of lovers, across the continent who worshipped her, out of the ether, dug a nail into the divine papyrus, and jotted down two new names in silver ink. She’d listened in on the conversation between the twins and the new arrival, so she had an idea for a suitable match.

  “Who are the chosen ones?”

  “My secret.” Furore grinned and waved the endless scroll away.

  “They’ll be thrilled.”

  Contusion

  What would happen to her now? Gale might cherish the opportunity to go on an adventure, but she’d never wanted fame or fortune. She’d wanted the tavern she’d grown up in, where she’d learnt about the world and responsibility by meeting strangers from far and wide. Why would she ever need to seek adventure when adventurers came to visit her?

  The giant who’d distracted them long enough for the ship to do whatever it did, and caught her when she’d fallen, kept both her and her twin safe in her broad, scarred arms while the wind tore at their clothes. But Hymn didn’t like it. The giant made her feel small and insignificant, like she’d die if she slipped out of her embrace, and the only thing between her and a premature death was this total stranger.

  She reeked of blood and seawater. Hymn didn’t know how long the ship had floated by itself, but she suspected the giant would lie to them if she asked. She smelled far too much like the vessel to not have spent weeks or months at sea. She’d known about the howling beast too, for sure, yet she’d not warned them. Instead, she’d mentioned some dangerous woman, but no human or elf could create such a bestial howl.

  When the ship ceased its rolling, they found themselves suspended upside down. The deck had switched place with the ceiling, yet the tables didn’t fall crashing down.

  “What now?” Gale asked with an exuberant, wide grin on her face. “You drop us down?”

  “I’m sure Phoxene will right the ship, if we give her time.” The giant groaned and helped them under the table where they could sit until the ship righted itself. “I’m Iorvil, by the way. I…”

  “Nice to meet you.” Gale poked her finger into Hymn’s upper arm. “How you holding up, sis?”

  “I wish to disembark and return home.” She glared at Iorvil while she spoke. “I trust that can be arranged.”

  “Ah…” Iorvil made an attempt to crawl under the table with them, stared into the underside of the table top, and shook her head subtly. “I’ll persuade Phoxene, but it might require violence.”

  Hymn kept glaring at their captor.
Iorvil wore leather armour strengthened with metal, a gorgeous medallion in the shape of a half-moon around her neck, and three azure feathers in the blonde braid next to her face. She might have been as attractive as any other rugged pirate, if it wasn’t for the fact that someone had scarred half of her countenance. It looked like they’d taken a knife to her skin and carved it up, so the hideous scar would bear a resemblance to lightning erupting along her eye, nose, and mouth.

  Iorvil brought to mind a weary traveller, who’d accepted they’d never find rest until their death, and drifted along the roads others built. She’d met people like that before in Caelora. They weren’t worth the trouble.

  Gale sneaked glances at their captor, blushed, as if she found her attractive and scary at the same time. Good. If Gale fell in love with Iorvil, Hymn didn’t have to fear for her own future. If it got the goddess of love off her back, she would give her twin to this intruder in their lives.

  She did not want to be caught up in Furore’s machinations. Not ever. Not after what Venviel and Hope had told her about their experiences with love. Her mothers loved to embellish the story of how they’d met, add tiny little details as decorations to spruce the truth up, but it’d always unsettled her. Furore was the monster, not Hope. Hymn would sooner worship another deity entirely than bow to love’s insanity.

  Slowly, the ship rolled around. Iorvil gestured for them to stay put under the table, kept her blue eyes focused on her, and grabbed the half-moon around her neck. The medallion shifted into an even thinner moon. If they’d met in the tavern, Hymn might have asked her about it.

  “This happens a lot where you’re from?” Gale asked while she tried to steady herself with her arms and legs pressed between the table and the deck.