Goddess by Liv Savell (autobiographies to read txt) 📕

her thick fur-lined cloak and leather breeches, fingers stained yellow beneath the nails from applying her warpaint that morning. She knew her black hair was wild even though it was tied back in its horsetail. She had hoped the question would make Etienne squirm and flush and stutter as he once did, but his surety in the answer was a welcome surprise. “And what, precisely, do you find admirable?”

Etienne did blush then, a sunrise of pinks spreading across his pale neck and cheeks. His answer came out fumbling, but he gained confidence as he spoke. “You’re— you’re strong and, um, quick-witted. I like the warm color of your skin under firelight and the way you smile when you find something new.”

She was smiling now. “Have you been studying me, mage?”

A snort sounded from behind them, and Meirin glanced over her shoulder to see the source. Enyo and Va’al had been trailing behind them, and apparently eavesdropping. “He’s been studying your ass. All males just want a good set of hindquarters.” Enyo patted Va’al’s in example, but he just rolled his eyes.

Meirin found this funny rather than insulting or embarrassing. She laughed, a strange sound no one had heard in days. Shaking her head, the warrior looked to Etienne. “Is that true? Do you only want a set of good hindquarters?” The term was hilarious, like she was some horse or cow, being assessed for quality cuts of meat or breeding.

Etienne looked mildly mortified. “No.”

“Too bad. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Etienne just sputtered, unable to look at her.

As they rounded the bend in the road, the caravan Delyth had mentioned came into sight. Intact, with carts loaded with supplies and people. Barely visible in the distance, but they were there. Finally, a piece of luck. “Should we pick up a run? To close the distance?” Meirin felt eager to end this, once and for all.

Maoz perked up at this suggestion, looking towards Meirin with approval. “Yes. It is time to hunt.”

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There was no breath for speaking as they jogged down the path, but it felt incredible to be moving towards the end of their journey with purpose and drive. To run, to be of action rather than petty arguments. To have the end in sight. The relief was like rain, cold and sweet, after a drought. Meirin kept her eyes fixed on the caravan ahead, as if by focusing on them hard enough, she could shorten the distance between them all. With all the walking they had been doing, Meirin found it easy to run for an hour. Two.

Finally, the travelers were within hailing distance, and she set her fingers to her lips, letting out a shrill whistle. A signal, at least around Mynydd Gwyllt, that friends, not foes, were approaching. She could see the travelers stir and look around, but a moment later, the two-note whistle sounded in response—a greeting and a welcome. Another laugh escaped Meirin. A friendly group of travelers who happen to know the whistles from her clan’s valley? Surely one would be willing to aid them, to take on Aryus and end the madness of Mascen? Their fortunes had turned indeed!

Meirin grinned and turned to look over her shoulder at Etienne, smirking and opening her mouth to say something.

The world exploded instead.

A blast like a boulder falling from a mountain knocked Meirin and the others off their feet. Meirin threw out her hands to catch herself; the rocks of the path bit into her palms, slicing her open and bruising her flesh. A high pitch ringing filled her ears, and as Meirin struggled to sit up, to think at all, she could see the caravan turn. They were rushing toward her. Coming to aid against the invisible attack.

“No, run,” her voice croaked, useless and impossible to hear from that distance.

The earth shuddered again, gasses rising from a crevice like some pus-filled wound in the world’s crust. They cloaked Mascen in toxic fumes as he stepped from the seam, magma pouring off his shoulders in sheets.Somehow he seemed larger, sharper, his details eating up all of her attention. Everything else seemed blurry compared to the God as if he were the only thing in focus in a world filled with ill-formed things. Black eyes drifted over their scattered group and landed on Enyo in the very back.

Meirin couldn’t hear what he said, but she felt the air around them boil. She braced herself for the attack, closing her eyes. She didn’t want to watch the end of her life.

One second passed. Another. A third.

Nothing happened.

Meirin opened her eyes again, confusion sweeping over her as Mascen strolled away from them. Casual, jaunty. “What…” Realization made the words die in her throat. He was heading towards the caravan, which seemed to have enough sense to turn tail and flee. Not that it would help.

“Mascen!”

“Stop it now!”

Bits and pieces of her hearing were returning, and Meirin staggered to her feet, reaching for a weapon long gone. What would she do? What could she do?

A few paces away, Delyth was pulling Etienne to his feet, her eyes wide with concern and… fear. She turned around, half poised to fight or take flight, and Meirin let her gaze follow the warrior’s.

Each step Mascen took splintered the earth, cracks following in his wake. A walking earthquake. Twenty yards from the fleeing caravan, he stopped and strolled to the side of the road, offering Meirin, Etienne, Delyth, and the Gods a full view of what she had thought would be their salvation. A stage for his cruelty. Brushing a hand through his molten red hair, Mascen looked once over his shoulder, eyes landing on his parents. Absurdly, it reminded Meirin of a child looking to his family for approval. But his smile was not one of a tentative child but a vindictive teenager.

“No!” She didn’t know who shouted it, but it didn’t matter.

Mascen held out his hands, reaching towards the people scurrying