Goddess by Liv Savell (autobiographies to read txt) 📕

The God ran his hand up the length of the Goddess’s spine, boney ridges of vertebrae poking through her skin, and curse Meirin if she didn’t see concern in his face. He murmured into Enyo’s ear, and she shook her head as if determined to push onwards. Meirin flushed, a little embarrassed to witness the tender exchange. As she looked on, Va’al insisted again, and Enyo gave up arguing with him.

The speck of darkness overhead circled downwards until Delyth landed. Shedidn’t ask why their pace had slowed; she just watched another tendril of ash snake its way across Enyo’s chest. They needed to find another Vassal now.

“Did you see any settlements ahead?” Meirin asked, drawing Delyth’s gaze.

“Yes.” The warrior’s voice was terse. Closed. “There is a settlement within a day’s walk. It appears untouched. No clouds of smoke or scorched farmland.”

Relief flooded Meirin; this would be over soon enough. With one more Vassal, Aryus would be returned, the Gods would summon their original forms, and banish Mascen. And then she could return to Mynydd Gwyllt and her family. Her duties. Her life. Maybe they stood a chance of actually pulling this off? One more Vassal and… That word wasn’t right. A Vassal was someone holy entering an ordinance with their God. The fifth would be more like a shell, holding the essence of something other.

Perhaps she should have offered herself as Vassal? Guilt was an enemy’s sword aimed at her chest, but she used reason as a shield. They needed warriors, hands with spears. Even if hers had been sacrificed in the initial battle with Mascen. She could fight, she could protect. With Enyo so weak, and Etienne still mastering the basics, they needed as many warriors as they could muster. Asides from that, this wasn’t her responsibility. This wasn’t her fight. Her duties had been dictated by Tanwen. Bring back Gethin, help banish the Gods if she could.

Well, now they were working side by side with the Gods, so the only thing Meirin could do was watch after Gethin. How would she do that if she was housed with the Death God? She couldn’t.

“A day is not so far,” Esha’s deep voice pulled Meirin from her thoughts. “Let us press onward.”

Etienne nodded, adjusting his pack. He seemed heartier after a couple night’s sleep and the slower pace of the last few days. There was a grim set to his jaw, a do-what-we-must determination that matched Delyth’s. Both were uncomfortable in the presence of the Gods.

Delyth nodded. “I’ll fly ahead to check for trouble.”

Though not much could have changed since the last time Delyth had flown in that direction, Meirin didn’t blame her. It would be easier to take haven in the clouds than stay on the earth with Enyo. Watching Alphonse’s body fade away with those spiraling black vines of infection.

“No.” Meirin jumped at the abrupt word. It was Va’al, shaking his head even as the others prepared to move onward. There was a sneer on his face that stank of arrogance. “This is too easy. Too much like a trap.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Delyth bristled as though her shoulders were lined with spikes rather than wings. “Are you going back on your bargain already? Too sentimental to put down your monster offspring?”

Va’al ground his teeth. “Actually, most astute one, I was going to suggest that one of us quietly scope out the town to make sure the way is clear. And, since bat-winged troglodytes aren’t common in this region, you won’t be of any help.”

Enyo’s chuckle just seemed to irritate Delyth even more. “So you’ll do it then? Because we all know you’re so fucking trustworthy.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Meirin looked for a better option. Her gaze fell on Maoz, who stood with his arms crossed and his attention fixed on Delyth. Unresponsive, uninterested. Esha, who looked so strange with her hip cocked and fingers twirling one lock of the priest’s hair. Etienne, pale and gangly and lacking in all things stealthy. And Enyo, slower than a human now. Turning to stone. “I could do it,” Meirin offered.

“You are the least recognizable out of all of us. You look like you belong here, like you could be a wandering merchant or warrior… or baker.” Etienne smiled at her in his silly, wide-mouthed way. “But should Mascen discover you—”

“If Mascen realized she was with us, he’d kill her. She can’t outrun him. Can you imagine her fighting him?” Va’al laughed. “We all saw how well that went last time. I’ll go. There’s nothing else for it.”

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It was dusk when Va’al reached the settlement. It was little more than a few homes raised together and a small open marketplace, currently empty for want of traders. They sat nestled against the river, cradled by a few miles of verdant farmland, with a few boys set to keep watch against the chance of bandits. There would be fighters within, plains people with spears near to hand if the need arose.

None of them saw Va’al.

He could not slip from the shadow half-world on the edges of existence like he might have when Rhosan was young, but his abilities had never entirely relied on that power. He knew the darkness, understood the way changing light cast flickering fingers as the sun sank, knew how to move among them like so much smoke, fox-silent.

As he stepped between the houses, he crouched in the earth—no cobblestone here— and listened. The village people moved about their evening tasks in small groups, talking among themselves. No one was too quiet or too loud, and they did their work with the sort of bored, every-day efficiency that came from duties performed at the same time, in the same way, year after year. And yet, there was something off, something wrong. He shifted uneasily, disturbing a skinny dog questing for scraps, and had to school