Chapter 24–Homeward Bound
After realizing they could simply change their appearance at will and walk past the guards without trouble, Sheeva, Tazaro, Tyler, and Vincent stood at the Eastern Gates. The well-kept gates and cobblestone road were a stark contrast from the rusty, squeaking metal of the Western Gates and the dusty, dirt road of the Southern Gates.
The homes and shops along the way were well-lit and cared for, their limestone bricks seeming to glisten like diamonds caught in fabulous light. Sheeva was thankful she had never encountered much trouble here during her search for Llyud but frowned as she recalled how turned-up their noses could be at her outlandish appearance. She would have preferred skeptic or bewildered looks over sneers of superiority, and it was no wonder Vincent and Tazaro never moved to the Eastern Quarters, with a community entirely different from their welcoming personalities.
Tyler reached around his shoulder to retrieve a sword in a green, leatherbound scabbard and handed it tenderly to Tazaro, smiling in fondness at it. He helped Tazaro strap it across his chest and grunted in approval–surely, the ladies would be all over the handsome appearance.
“That was mine when I was yer age. I was just starting out as a footsoldier. It should serve yeh well. But, uh, don’t go swinging it around until yeh’ve learned to handle one, huh? No need to chop off yer head.” He warned with a smirk. He pulled Tazaro into a crushing hug, ruffling his hair, fighting the urge to tsk at it in distaste, always preferring to keep his own hair short-cut. It was currently platinum silver, for shits and giggles. He held Tazaro out at arm’s length, wanting to look him in the eye as he imparted more words of wisdom, then curled his lip and made a face. As bright teal eyes looked back at him, Tyler shook his head.
“Geeze, I forget that’s still Tazaro under all that. Yeh couldn’t’ve gone with black hair and amber eyes or somethin’?” Tyler mumbled. Tazaro shrugged, a mildly apologetic face shining through.
“So long as people don’t recognize me, whatever’s fine.”
He would not admit it, but learning what he could and could not do with his looks had become a great source of amusement. Even Sheeva seemed to appreciate his shenanigans as he successfully weirded out Vincent by donning a lab coat and copying the doctor's looks down to the scar barely noticeable in Vincent’s hairline from a head-cracking accident when they were preteens. He even went as far as to sit in Vincent's favorite chair and pretend to read the science-fiction novel on the side table.
Sheeva stood off to the side with Vincent, waiting as patiently as she could, eager to get their traveling underway. They had already spent three days longer than initially intended to say their goodbyes to everyone, though well worth it. Still, she had never reserved or entertained such hesitance in previous towns and cities, always searching and driving herself to death in pursuit. It was an uncomfortable feeling.
“I’m sure you’ve heard everyone else say it, so I’ll spare you...all of it, but be safe out there, and write, if you can?” Vincent asked though he doubted somewhere so secluded that it did not even show on a map had a mailing system.
Sheeva felt her impatience lessen, and she slowly nodded to him to show she heard, thinking to herself about how they would possibly mail a letter. She brushed the idea off, deciding she would look into it later when they had arrived. Maybe, in her absence, the temple had opened up to “outsiders” and set up such a system. She huffed; it was unlikely.
“It is only a week’s travel,” She silenced and glanced over her shoulder at the guards standing at the base of the gates. They were far enough away, but she lowered her voice anyway. “By foot. If we were to fly, it might only take a couple of days. I am sure that we could come back to visit. But that would be a while out. We have a lot of work to do.” She half-promised. It would take Tazaro’s wings a good couple of months to build their strength, and depending on how well he took to his training, a couple of months to get the basics of flight. Sheeva had never trained someone before, so she anticipated an even longer process.
“That would be nice. Just, uh, don’t forget to take some time to yourself, too.” Vincent suggested. Sheeva allowed a slight smile.
“I will. With the protective veil surrounding the mountain, we will be safe enough there that I will be able to. It will be nice to see the greenhouse again, as well.” She assured.
“A veil? More of your temple’s magic, I assume?” Vincent asked, hoping that it was actually some form of Tarrakkian technology that she could pass out to other towns. He mentally corrected himself; if there was such technology, it might have already been put into effect in most places.
“I...I do not know. It was there when I arrived, and I assumed that it had always been there. I do know that the leader of the temple has a similar power. He banished Llyud with a spell that sent him rolling down the front steps.” She mused briefly, not wanting to imagine what might happen if the veil broke while they were under attack.
She followed the dirt road with her eyes as it cut through plains and between fields to eventually disappear into the treeline of the dense forest, slowly illuminated by the morning sun into a blend of light green oaks and dark green firs. Half-moon Kursu had already disappeared beyond the horizon, whereas Celeste hovered above the crest of mountaintops, a thin sliver of a croissant-shaped golden moon. Her lips curled slightly as she thought the artist she'd donated to might like to paint a reflection of such a view.
Sheeva looked back at Tyler and Tazaro, who were still talking to each other, Tyler with a tired expression, since he had woken up much earlier than usual to see them off. She sympathized with his exhaustion, waking well before the crack of dawn to make sure, for the third time, that all their supplies were together, organizing, packing, and shrinking things down to cram into their backpacks.
She had not wasted space on meat, figuring she would pick off a couple of critters that dwelled in the denser part of the forest, untouched and infringed from Sferran’s presence. They were generally larger and would feed them well. Plus, with summer well in progress, any offspring they had would be able to fend for themselves, and she would feel less remorseful if she accidentally claimed a mother’s life.
“Such a serious face. Second thoughts?” Bartholomew cackled, causing Sheeva to look up and Tazaro to look over in the direction. Bartholomew rose from the ground halfway between the two, arms crossed and tail curled around his feet. Sheeva and Tazaro fought to keep straight faces, and Sheeva forced an excuse.
“It will be sweltering hot soon. We should hurry. The shade of the forest will help keep us cool.” She suggested.
“I can help keep you guys cool.” Bartholomew cackled with a sly grin. Sheeva bit her tongue and pursed her lips, then turned her back sharply and crossed her arms as she felt the scowl break on her face. Don’t you dare! She pleaded.
Sheeva tensed, swallowing back the shocked whimper in her throat, and fought to stay standing as she felt a piercing chill span through her chest. She watched as Bartholomew’s apparition flowed past, giggling with childish glee as he waved at her with a claw. She forced a few wobbly steps forward as she attempted to keep from buckling to the ground.
“Uh, Vincent, could you come here for a second? Wanted to say something.” Tazaro called out. As soon as Vincent left Sheeva’s side, she crumbled and took a knee, clutching her thin shirt to her chest to warm herself and letting out a shaky breath as she shivered fiercely, meanwhile glaring daggers at Bartholomew’s back.
Tazaro flashed an apologetic look even though Sheeva’s back was turned to them.
“What’s up?” Vincent asked.
“Um…” Tazaro paused, searching for an excuse. He feigned a tired look and rubbed at his eyes, cracking a smile as he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Take care of yourself.”
When he noticed Sheeva regained her composure, Tazaro relaxed, relieved for her sake.
“Of course. Always do.” Vincent grinned. “Make sure she is careful. I didn’t stitch her up just to have you both be mauled by a bearog or something.”
They watched as Sheeva drew Abraxas and looked at it, a furious scowl on her face. Vincent decided she was impatient, though he supposed he could understand, considering she did not stay in a place for long and had admitted to staying in Roussell far longer than she meant to. Tazaro had a feeling she was wondering if she could stab Bartholomew, and as she looked in Bartholomew’s direction, he nodded to himself. Maybe, they would need a blade of silver or some other supernatural solution, assuming it would even work in the first place.
Tazaro took a sharp breath and cleared his throat.
“Alright, I’m going.” He announced, forcing his feet to move away before they loitered any longer. He scowled to mask the bittersweet sadness and blinked away the tiny tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes.
When he was far enough into the fields and confident they would not notice, he stopped and turned to wave at them. The smaller visage of Vincent and the bulkier blob of Tyler waved back and turned away to head towards their homes. Tazaro hurried to catch up to Sheeva, who had already begun to walk on.
Feeling they were far enough away from the gates, he dispelled his disguise and shook at the tingling effect in the roots of his hair as it wore off.
“You good? I wanted to warn you, but I couldn’t think of anything subtle fast enough, so I decided to distract Vincent instead.” He asked, giving her another apologetic look that she could actually see. She snarled and shook her head.
“No. I am going to kill Bartholomew.” She grumbled, picking up her pace in frustration as she mulled it over in her head. Calming herself with a sigh, she slowed and slouched her shoulders in defeat.
“Suppose I won’t kill him, but still, we might need to come up with something if he tries to pull that stunt again.” She suggested. Tazaro nodded in agreement, staring at a growing cornstalk as he thought about what they could do. As he looked at a scarecrow in the middle of the field, he grimaced at the ugly thing. Forget crows. The Sferran-sized ragdoll could scare people.
At the base of the treeline, Sheeva paused and turned back to look at Roussell from a distance, shielding her eyes from the rising sun. The clocktower pierced the sky amid the mass of houses, and from this vantage point, Sheeva finally realized Roussell lay in the middle of a bowl-shaped crater, surrounded by mountains on all sides. Interesting, considering the temple rested at the beginning of a pass. She briefly wondered if the landscape had been formed from the impact of something crashing down from the skies and turned to ask Tazaro if he knew anything about it but stopped at the crestfallen look on his face.
She closed her mouth, nodded in understanding, and took a seat on a nearby boulder to wait it out.
“Take your time. It will be a while until we can return. Perhaps once you’ve gotten the hang of flying and have some skill with a weapon or your fists under your belt, we can make the journey back for a couple of days.” She assured him with a small smile.
Tazaro stuck his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath, calmed by fond memories. Micah, Vincent, Perron, and him sneaking out and wandering around the streets until the wee hours of the morning when he was thirteen, although his mother certainly knew what he was up to. Being so nervous about kissing his crush during a game of truth or dare that he missed and kissed her cheek instead. Betting on ridiculous things and playing escalating jokes that only once reached breaking the law. Pacing around with unbridled joy in his mother’s living room upon receiving his acceptance letter to Raynak’s prestigious college.
His smile grew into a grin at the more recent memories, self-conscious about how silly he must have looked while waving his arms in excitement from the Stargazer’s success and the awkward kiss that followed. How fulfilling it had been to comfort Sheeva with a tender, sweet kiss before being so rudely interrupted by fireworks. How nice it was to sit around a table and enjoy a meal with family again, like they used to, and even though his mother was no longer there, it felt like she was among them in spirit. Tyler even began “high-point, low-point,” where they discussed what rocked about the day versus what sucked about the day.
He felt the frown in the corners of his mouth and sighed, wiping at the tears falling down his cheeks as he realized how much he would miss that.
“Hey, do you think–He began, then cleared the knot from his throat. “Could we keep doing a, uh, makeshift family dinner? I know it wouldn’t be the same, it’d be just us, but, uh…” He trailed off, reluctant to admit how much he would miss it and feeling suddenly far too vulnerable for comfort. Sheeva offered him a warm smile and solidified her “yes” with a head nod.
“We all eat together at the temple anyway. Not all of us are antisocial outcasts.”
He beamed at her, spirits lifted, then turned back to take one last look.
“I wish I could paint pictures. Decorating furniture with etching and carving is one thing, but painting? You’d think it would be easy, considering it’s just a different tool, but, nah–I suck at it. Shame, I like this view.” He rambled, aware that it was just a coping method for his addled brain as he fought to compile the mess of bittersweet, angst, and homesickness Tazaro felt for the place he was leaving.
He snickered and waved his hand at the thought that maybe he could create something that would make an instant painting, then turned away and picked up his bag to sling it back over his shoulder.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Slowly, they made their way, Tazaro listening eagerly to Sheeva as she explained the expansive layout of the Malfa Temple they were heading toward, occasionally pausing to point out a particular plant or animal. She had even managed to find a berry bush they picked from to add a sweet treat to the lunches she had made for them.
As midday faded into dusk and gave way to the darkness of night, the midsummer night air almost broke through their coats. The light from the moons was blocked by thick, verdant tree branches as Sheeva led them further into the enclosing, dense forest. Tazaro’s orb of light shimmered a pale green, and Sheeva’s, a light yellow as they used them to light their way instead.
Sheeva listened to the Tinker Owls hooting at each other, not feeling the need to keep her hand on Abraxas.
“Listen. The forest is safe.” She pointed out, looking up toward the canopy of the trees.
“How can you tell?” He asked. She glanced at him, then turned to look back at the trees, hoping to find an owl. She found a white-chested one, peering down at them with a cold stare in its bulbous, stern, golden eyes.
“Creatures are calling to each other. Aside from us, nothing is disturbing them. Dim your light; let’s not disturb them further.” She insisted, beckoning her light to her palm and closing her fingers. The light grew small, and she directed it to circle around her feet, showing the decay on the forest floor.
He followed her example, twisting his hand to turn it a soft golden color against the green of leaves and grass. Tazaro moved his foot at the last minute as he realized he was about to step on a wide-capped mushroom that blended amid the green hue of his light and ended up snapping a branch underneath his boot. He looked up, overhearing the alarmed squawks of the owls up above along with a softly muttered: “ah, vilg.”
Sheeva stopped, sighed, then looked back at him, a slight scowl on her face. It softened as she sighed again and rested her hand on her sword.
“Watch your step. Tread lightly. The owls will resume when they calm down.” She murmured.
She bared her wings and told Tazaro to do the same, explaining that he would need to acclimate himself to balancing with more limbs, even though she had him walking around the apartment with his wings bared.
Trying to keep a good posture, he had difficulty stepping over rocks and branches as the unstable ground and the additional weight threw him around. It was nothing like walking back and forth down the hallway of his home.
“This feels weird.” He admitted, trying to jump over a ditch. He stumbled forward as his feet met the ground and fell to his knees.
“How the hell do you get used to this?” He asked, getting a little frustrated as he picked himself up and carried on.
“Practice. Like I have told you, these are new limbs, new ligaments. You will need time to adjust.” She reminded him, turning away and continuing down the path. He stood and brushed off his hands onto his pants and tried to keep up with her.
“Could you slow down?” He asked. She stopped and nodded, slowing her pace. She decided to work on her wing stretches while they made their way, reminding herself that she needed to strengthen them after injury. Extending her left wing as far out as she could, she held it for a few seconds, then raised it, lowered it, and began to rotate it, as a person would do with their arms. She did the same with her right, then brought it forward, reaching the tips as far as they would go, copied the action with her left, then angled them both back and stretched them.
“I can’t believe you can do all that while walking,” Tazaro said in awe. She clicked her tongue at him.
“I first bared my wings when I was thirteen. I have had years of practice. You must exercise patience with yourself because it is not something that happens overnight.” She reminded him, thinking he was insulting himself about it.
“I wasn’t upset. I’m just...I think it’s cool.” He corrected her.
She gave a “hmm,” and kept going.
They did not say anything for a while, only stopping after Sheeva yawned for the third time. She looked up at the sky, then took out her watch. It was nearing midnight.
“I will find us a clearing, and then we will stop for the day. I am tired.” She announced.
“Something particular about clearings?” He asked. She shook her head and smirked at him.
“Cannot see the sky through a canopy of trees, can you?”
“Ah, no, guess not. Um, thank you.” He said, slightly sheepish, slightly surprised. She waved it off, something she picked up from Vincent. He would do it when he heard something and did not feel like responding but wanted to notify that all was well.
After a while, they reached a small clearing, and Sheeva stopped, retracted her wings, and slung her bag off her shoulders. She grabbed her sleeping bag and rolled it out, then took out the Stargazer from a protective container they put it in and expanded it for Tazaro, figuring he was not tired yet. Also, it was a new area for him to explore. She wondered if it would show different clusters of stars and decided to ask him in the morning.
"Correct me if I am wrong, but one of the constellations on the horizon appears to be a bow with an arrow. It matches one of those sigils we saw on those banners in that clearing with the altar. Did that clearing have something to do with your gods?" Sheeva asked, startling Tazaro a little, having taken her for being sound asleep by the time he'd finished settling down with a sketchbook and orb of light.
"My gods?” Tazaro scoffed, turning up his nose. “As if I’d consider them mine. As far as I care, they can go suck an egg.” He considered pointing out that Sheeva had been the one to primarily suggest that they truly existed, thanks to her–and his–state of existence, but knowing that she would only counter with that tidbit, he decided against it.
She gave a soft “hm,” signaling that she had more to say, but as he began to imagine what it might be, he felt he’d painted a target on his back.
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“I feel I do not understand anything about these gods–their sigils, and what they stand for, and why they hold so much power over you. I’d at least like for you to explain them to me.” She asked.
“What? They don’t hold power over–
He stopped as she directed an icy glare at him, lips pursed in disapproval.
“They don’t, do they? Tazaro, you still blame them for...what? Not intervening? Not, ah, ‘trifling in our petty matters?” She argued, then sighed. “Still, I...I don’t know anything about them, and I’d rather it be you to explain them to me than some pigheaded priest who belittles me for what I do not know.”
Tazaro’s eyebrows raised, impressed, and he couldn’t blame her for asking after that.
“Alright. Sure. Come here, and I’ll show you.” He relented, and with a heavy sigh, grabbed his grid-line sketchbook.
She crawled out of her sleeping bag, stood, and headed to where he sat, pausing to grab her blanket. As she sat down at his side beneath the base of the tree he’d leaned himself against, she draped the blanket over the both of them.
"Alright. Normally, the twelve gods are arranged in a circle, with the god-king, Hyles, set up towards the north, with his wife Hyperia, Goddess of Fertility, to his right, and Abraxas at his left.” He began, labeling the squares he traced with respective numbers, one through three, with a roughly sketched crown, a bow with arrows, and a broken spear.
"Then, you have Valrigard the Warrior-God, Lucassen the Entertainer, Alkurik the Farmer, and Vokken the Wise to the left." He continued as he numbered them as five, seven, nine, and eleven.
He paused after sketching their symbols and hoped she would forgive his poor description of a stick-figure broadsword, something that resembled a lute, a wimpy flower, and a scroll with a cup for the other gods in the court's idols, too bitter to put much detail into the works.
"To the right, the goddesses: Alena the Healer, Fidelia the Just, Zira the Familial, Tovah, goddess of the skies, and Giovina, goddess of the waters."
Numbers four, six, eight, ten, and twelve followed in a clockwise circle, and he attempted to make the designs a little nicer, self-conscious about his previously half-assed, horrid scribbles. Alena’s spiral of stars still ended up being a swirl of asterisks, Tovah’s thunderbolt was a sore scar on the page, and Zira’s trilithon seemed like something unstable that would likely topple over in real life, but at least Fidelia’s scales were decent. He caught himself doodling designs on Giovina’s two koi swimming ad infinitum to nip at each other’s tails, collected himself, and put his pencil down.
“That clearing that we stopped in was arranged differently, and whether it was for ‘artistic vision’ or to make a statement, I’m not sure, but whoever built it had the gods facing their significant other,” Tazaro explained. A wave of inspiration flowed over him as he thought that, perhaps, the grounds had been situated for some type of marriage ritual or something–maybe, for a couple otherwise turned away by the priests.
Or maybe they wanted to keep it a secret for some other, darker reason.
He shook his head, realizing he’d left Sheeva on hold, cleared his throat, and brought her attention back to his sheet of paper.
He flipped it over, drew a line down the middle of the page, and scribbled down three names.
“In the beginning, the cosmos conceived three brothers: Abraxas the ravager, Hyles the strategist, and Vokken the equalizer. Hyles was given the gift of creating order and making sense of the cosmos, Abraxas was to reign in the disorder and chaos left behind in structure’s wake, and Vokken was to ensure the two could reconcile with one another as they began to give structure and order to the universe.”
On the other side of the line, Tazaro scribbled down three more names.
“Once enough order and chaos had been reigned in to form the stars, moons, suns, and planets, the cosmos gave birth to three sisters: Giovina the synergist, goddess of the waters; Hyperia, the sentinel, the goddess of the earth–and later, goddess of the hunt–and Tovah, the saboteur, goddess of the winds. The three sisters worked together to further stablize a planet, and though it held a single mass amid a vast sea and rich airs, was as balanced a planet as it could be–and better yet, appeared to be able to sustain life,” He continued.
He sketched out a planet with a single chunk of land amid squiggly lines for air and shoddy-drawn waves surrounding the mass, and beneath the doodled planet, wrote the planet’s name, “Sferra.”
“So moved by the sister’s works spearheaded by Hyperia were Abraxas and Hyles, each became enamored with and wished to woo the sister. When their arguments threatened to unravel the foundations of all they had built, Vokken suggested that both brothers would be given nine days to convince Hyperia to marry them–which is why we have nine days in our week,” Tazaro noted as a tangent, marking the information in the corner.
“Hm. A week doesn’t seem very long,” Sheeva hummed.
“I would think time doesn’t matter much if you’re a god.” He countered, then shook his head free of the tangent and continued explaining.
“Hyles approached conversations alight with plans and ambition, which swayed Hyperia, while Abraxas approached conversations darkened with excuses and disillusions, which deterred Hyperia. In the end, Hyperia chose the cheery, goal-driven Hyles over the spiteful Abraxas. Within five weeks, or one month,” He paused to make note of the fact beneath his note for days in a week.
“They conceived, and after twelve months,” He paused again to note the number of months in a year, “They gave birth to the first of the five races of Sferra: Vivroans.” He explained, writing down the name on the singular continent in the sketch.
“Although, some people think that was their first mistake–conceiving,” Tazaro joked with a snicker. Sheeva scoffed her own short laugh, then returned her attention to the sketch.
“Anyway,” He mumbled, trying to reign his comedic side back. “After the coronation of Hyles as ‘God-King,’ Abraxas was festering about his lot in life, believing his status as ‘godfather’ to Vivroans an act of pity and Tovah’s affections also an act of pity on him. Full of pride, rage, and uncontested hate, Abraxas sought to ruin the planet his brother and the other gods had built together.”
He then returned the pencil to the paper and began to sketch another planet opposite the one already there, though this one with one large landmass and four other, similarly-sized chunks.
“Fires, earthquakes, and tornados destroyed the lands and wrecked the people, breaking the continent into five masses: Vivroa, Pacem, Pyurita, Tarrakk, and Cruinia. Once the calamities on Sferra were resolved, Abraxas was banned from the god-king’s court, but with Vokken’s recommendation that Abraxas reconcile with the others and Tovah’s plea that he could turn over a new leaf, Hyles allowed him to still reside within the halls of the gods. When he did not better his ways, he was excommunicated from the court.” He continued, crossing out Abraxas’s name from the list and adding three more to each column: Alkurik, Lucassen, and Valrigard on the left, and Zira, Fidelia, and Alena on the right.
“In the midst of all the natural disasters, Vivroans prevailed, and several stood out to the gods with their accomplishments. The remaining gods picked them from the world as champions, and as they rose to join the court of the gods, each had their own boons to bestow upon the ever-changing, growing world as they saw fit. In short, you have: Alkurik, the god of the harvest; Lucassen, the god of entertainment; Valrigard, the god of strength; Zira, the goddess of the home and family; Fidelia, the goddess of justice, and Alena, the goddess of healing,” He summed, drawing each of the sigils next to their names again, though much less detailed than before.
“Eventually, the remaining gods and champions began to partner, marry, and conceive, thus bearing the rest of the five races of Sferra: Valrigard and Alena placed their children on Cruinia, Vokken and Giovina on Tarrakk, Lucassen and Fidelia on Pacem, and Alkurik and Zira on Pyurita.” He pointed out, labeling each island and connecting the names to the respective islands.
She seemed to be hanging on every word, and it calmed Tazaro’s worries that he was boring her. Encouraged, he continued.
“According to legend, Abraxas began to operate in the shadows and leftover chaos he’d sown. He approached Sferrans and made deals. Immortality, power. Magic. Which, I–I’m still trying to come to terms with that, the fact that…It’s true. I mean, you’re right–it’s, uh, gotta be true, somewhere.” He muttered, forming his orb of light and toying with it, as though the magical thing would convince his hard-wired brain that it wasn’t a bunch of wacky conjecture.
“And from there, he amassed an army to take over?” Sheeva murmured, offering a place for Tazaro to continue. He nodded and dispelled his light.
“Lucassen, with words of inspiration, rallied an army that Valrigard led against Ta’hal, and both became great in their roles, hence the lute sigil and broadsword sigil. Alena became a healer to treat the injured. Hyperia crafted specialized, hollow arrows made of holly to protect her husband if other gods tried to betray Hyles again. Alkurik and Zira worked to supply the armies and Sferrans with food when their crops were burned or livestock slaughtered by the Ta’hal. Vokken worked in the background as a strategist.”
He took a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to figure out if there was anything he had missed.
“Some of the Ta’hal created by Abraxas were far too great to vanquish, and so the gods banished them, either into the deep seas or the skies, or, in the case of the ‘oh-so-Great-Basiliska,” He announced sarcastically with a derisive snicker, “With the help of a god-blessed Sferran, Hassogtha, they launched him into the stars.”
“Hm. Do you think–ah, never mind–my apologies! Go on.” She interrupted, then held her tongue between her teeth to keep back the question burning at the tip of it.
Tazaro sat back, pleased in her interest.
“No, don’t apologize. What’s your question?”
“I wondered if–since Ta’hal were created from Sferrans–if those beasts the gods saw the need to banish are only as powerful as they are because they were once great Sferrans.”
The question hit him like the full stop of a steam-powered machine, and as the gears ground with a violent, hideous screech in his head, Tazaro was barely aware of his spaced-out stare towards the fire.
“Oh. Geeze. That’s a hell of an idea.” He murmured while trying to gather his thoughts, now wondering how powerful a man or woman had to be to have been turned into such a terrifying legendary creature.
“You’re too good at that, you know–asking questions that make you stop and think.” He complimented, happy to have something else to muse about on the long journey ahead, even if it did frighten him a little.
The cracks and pops of sap pockets in the logs accompanied Tazaro’s thoughts, imagining the Ice Basiliska, Leviathan, that dwelled in the seas to have been a successful, dressed-to-the-nines seafaring captain, or perhaps, the opposite: a notorious, scraggly pirate with a big bushy beard and only one leg. He had a hard time wondering what would have been a qualifying characteristic for the mysterious flying serpent bred of Tovah’s jealousy for Hyperia, said to have eight wings that spanned the length of its long, legless, drake-like body. Was it feathered like a bird, too, or scaly, like a reptile?
“Are there any other creatures that exist thanks to the gods?” She asked, reaching for her rations bag and retrieving a slab of jerky. Splitting it in half with a knife, she stuck one piece in her mouth and handed the other to him. If it weren’t for the fact that she had asked another question, Tazaro might have thought it a subtle clue for him to shut up.
This jerky was mesquite, earthy, with a nice touch of salt, pepper, and sweet chilis, and it caused him to scrunch his face in shock as the flavors danced on his tastebuds.
“Well,” He swallowed his bite and hastily took another as he realized how hungry he was. “Behemoths were, supposedly, created by Hyles upon request for a stronger foe. Guess Valrigard got bored. Though he had Hyperia’s archery skills on his side, the beast overpowered the both of them and escaped into Sferra.” He answered.
Sheeva gave a haughty Feh!
“That foul beast was brought into the world because some god was bored?”
Tazaro gave her another sidelong glance.
“You…really hate them, huh?”
She remained silent for a moment.
“I came across one in the crags in the southeast of Vivroa. Barely made it out alive. Between the jowls, the horns, the claws, the tail, and the fact that they’re smart enough to do some magic, I was almost too pissed to bother harvesting it.”
“You’ve fought one?”
She nodded and began to sprinkle a salt and pepper mixture on the meat, patting it in.
“Not before it almost mauled me to death. I only managed to kill it because I tricked it into running past a crag urchin that I pissed off along the way. They really will shoot their spines at anything that moves.”
Tazaro redirected his gaze to the fire with an impressed, mouthed wow.
"You said the clearing we stopped in had a different arrangement. Other than Hyles and Hyperia, what were the pairings?" Sheeva asked, bringing them back on track with their original topic. He picked up his pencil and drew a rough sketch of the clearing's lineup.
"Alena and Valrigard are married; apparently, they fell in love as she healed his wounds throughout the war and after the behemoth. Fidelia and Lucassen are married and apparently welcome the souls of the dead at the mouth of the river that supposedly flows back into the earth, waiting to weigh their accomplishments against Fidelia's scale."
Sheeva gave a soft hum of comfort at something.
"Suppose it's nice to have a warm welcome after death." She chuckled. He fought to not succumb to his own darkening, morose thoughts, finding it funny that she would find comfort in such a silly, non-existent thing.
"I dunno. Being ultimately judged after being watched your whole life seems a little unfair." He countered, remembering that Sheeva didn't know that, ideologically, the two watchers spent their time drinking Alkurik's wine and spectating on Sferran's pathetic lives, occasionally tipping the odds as they saw fit.
"Zira is the midwife to the gods, is married to Alkurik, and helps him tend to his crops and flock. She's the goddess of the home, and because her sigil is the trilithon, we fashion our door frames and entryways after them to represent the whole idea that ‘home is where you’re welcome’… Supposedly. Really, I think it was purely because they're more structurally stable."
Another soft hum reached his ears, and as Sheeva sleepily mumbled something about him being welcome to consider the temple as home, Tazaro took a deep breath and heavily sighed. He wasn’t sure if it would become true, considering he didn’t know what to expect and figured they would be there for a short time.
"Tovah…was facing Abraxas. People pay tithes to her for good weather or for storms to pass quickly–some poppycock about her controlling the skies and throwing fits of rage for her unrequited love. Her sister, Giovina, goddess of the seas and waters, is married to Vokken, and when she's not taking care of her sobbing sister, she's pissing away her own troubles with Vokken. Sailors pray to her for good weather while out at sea. I guess farmers might pray to her for the opposite."
The silence drove him to instantly overthink, and he opened his mouth to reiterate the fact that he found it all to be conjectured bullshit but stopped as he felt her head press against his shoulder.
Tearing his gaze from the fire, he chuckled with himself and his folly.
Here she was, simply asleep, curled beneath the blanket and a passive, peaceful expression on her face.
“Fan of bedtime stories, are you?” He cracked, wriggling himself out of the shelter of the blanket as carefully as he could, then stooping to lay her down in a comfortable pose.
Adding another log to the dwindling fire, Tazaro poked at it to scatter its heat and light, then wandered over to the Stargazer and plopped himself down on his pillow.
He opened his sketchbook again, ignoring the sketches he had just drawn in the back of it, and searched for the particular cluster of stars he decided to map. They were the group of six brightly twinkling stars that formed the left horn of Behemoth Major, the constellation depicting, as the name implied, a Behemoth. As he mused on the gigantic beast said to have fur, claws, and a long tail that it would use to sweep enemies’ feet out from underneath them, he wondered what kind of crazy acrobatics Sheeva would have had to implement on such quick notice to have survived. He immediately wondered if he would ever be able to do the same and manage to survive but snorted at his worries–the creature only lived in caves and rocky areas. He would not have to worry about finding any in a forest.
“Oh? What is this?” Bartholomew’s voice called out, making Tazaro jump and almost smash his eye on the Stargazer’s eyepiece. He straightened himself out to steady the machine as it wobbled and threatened to fall over.
“Could you not scare me like that?” Tazaro hissed, rubbing at his sore eye socket. He did not need to worry about waking Sheeva; he had her muffling spell cast over her and had already set up alarms.
“Would you prefer I float through you?” Bartholomew shot back with a cheeky, toothy grin. Tazaro almost began to mock him but stopped himself. The damn ta’hal would likely do it out of spite. He rubbed at his face to resist the urge to throw a punch at the creature.
“It’s my machine. I made it to look at the stars.” Tazaro answered after he stilled his rapidly beating heart. Bartholomew gave him an impressed eyebrow-raise and nodded, then looked up at the sky. From Tazaro’s position, Bartholomew towered over him, standing like a tree amid the clearing.
“Oh, so it’s a prototype of a telescope.” Bartholomew smiled, stooping down to peer through the eyepiece, though frowned as his head fell through and into the body of the machine.
“A-a what?”
“Mm, don’t worry about it. Have you learned a lot?” The ta’hal asked, looking back down at him. The teal eyes glimmered a deep, threatening teal and reflected Tazaro’s orb back at him, adding further intimidation. Tazaro collected himself and nodded. He held out his sketchbook for Bartholomew to flip through but then set it down, remembering Bartholomew could not grab solid objects. He ignored Bartholomew’s brooding and returned to peering at the twinkling stars.
“So far…not really, but it’s only been a couple of weeks. Silka’s just a chunk of ice. You can even see through it to the other side at some points.” He admitted. “Oh, but I think it has its fair share of moons. It’s hard to tell, sometimes.”
At Bartholomew’s sated “hm,” Tazaro poured focus into jotting down a rough map on his page, brightening his light to see his makeshift grid better. If he had thought about it at the time, he would have added a scaling factor on the machine to help him better record the locations of things. He scribbled down a note to craft and affix one later if he ever had the time.
“When I was alive, I’d look at the scenery a lot when I wasn’t looking at pretty girls.” Tazaro heard after a while of silence. It jarred Tazaro’s thoughts, and he stopped and stared up at Bartholomew, who was now perched in a tree as well as a transparent being could be, what with the tail blade flicking through the branch and trunk of the tree as it swished back and forth in what Tazaro assumed was cheer.
“What?” He asked, frightened to the core as his brain began to throw out questions at a million miles a minute.
Was Bartholomew’s transparent state because he was actually dead? Was he some sort of ghost? Was he some sort of poor soul struck with immortality and forced to wander the universe, as Abraxas had been?
“What? Women are pretty–most of them, anyway. Some men, too.” He paused to give Tazaro a lookover, a teasing glint in his teal eyes. “Not you, though. You’re not my type.”
Tazaro scrunched his face at the jab that had nothing to do with what he’d originally meant. Still confused, he shook his head.
“No, no. You said you were alive? How does that–are you…are Ta’hal cursed, somehow?” He asked.
He did not miss the terse frown that stretched across Bartholomew’s jowls, and this snared his attentions for the worse.
“Depends. Some say cursed, some say a blessing…but, anyway, I was Sferran at one point in time. Hundreds of years ago.” He redirected, waving a claw at the topic he obviously didn’t want to entertain. Tazaro didn’t push, much as he wanted to, figuring they’d revisit the subject at a later time.
Tazaro sat back, dumbfounded, and wrapped his blanket tighter around himself as an eerie chill swept over him.
“I...I kinda thought ta’hal were, uh, born?” Tazaro questioned, the blush of embarrassment creeping over his cheeks. Bartholomew cackled hard, doubling over in laughter, and Tazaro wondered if he would have fallen out of the tree. The ta’hal still hung upside-down from his current branch like a bat, and Tazaro found it strange that the being’s hair and tail yielded to commands of gravity.
“What, you thought we had moms and dads that fornicate and make little ta’hal babies?” Bartholomew smirked, breaking Tazaro out of his observations.
“Fine. How do you come into existence, then?” Tazaro sassed. Bartholomew’s demeanor grew serious. He spread his wings to push off and floated toward the ground. He sat down on his haunches, spiraling his tail and sitting on it as he had before, a grim expression on his face.
It was a while before he spoke, breaking the tension.
“It’s not just Abraxas that can make a deal, you know. All Ta’hal can, and I’ll tell you that some forms of magic shouldn’t be touched.” He fell eerily silent, and Tazaro wondered what hellish magic the Ta’hal had stumbled on in his apparent “life.”
“The loss of a child is something no father should bear, yet desperation can drive a man to do unspeakable things, not giving a damn of the trade-offs. Sign your life away, become a cosmically bound being. Watch it all be for naught.” He stated, picking at his claws with the blade sticking out of his tail and a deep, seething hatred in his eyes. He grunted at something and sighed.
“I don't want to get into it right now. It’s pathetic…but not as pathetic as that first kiss you guys shared! Your second one was much better. You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?” Bartholomew veered, giving a snicker.
“You saw all that?” Tazaro stated, embarrassed on Sheeva’s behalf for the first and for both of them for the second.
“I gotta keep an eye on my bounty hunter. We have a deal.”
“What about Zakaraia?” Tazaro asked, an indignant scowl on his face. “You’re supposed to be watching him.” He reminded the beast.
Bartholomew shook his head and stood.
“No, I've been keeping an eye on him, too! Lately, he’s been terrorizing that messed-up jail in Cruinia–like picking off fish in a barrel. It's unbecoming of a ta’hal, really.” He admitted. Tazaro shuddered at the imagery, imagining hundreds of mistreated prisoners screaming in terror in their cells.
“Can’t believe I am saying this, but hopefully, they’re better off dead. I’ve heard horror stories about that place. Heard they cannibalize their prisoners.” Tazaro muttered to console himself.
“Hm, can’t say.” Bartholomew shrugged.
A nasty smirk cracked on his face, and Tazaro dreaded whatever he was about to say.
“Hey, do you think butts are soft and tender or tough and gamey?”
Tazaro’s lip curled, and he felt nauseous at the thought and squinted his eyes in disgust, mostly with himself for answering the question in his head with “probably tough and gamey.”
“That’s terrible, Bartholomew.” He grunted, brushing off the cackle the Ta’hal gave before curling up beneath a tree opposite the two of them, wrapping his wings around himself for warmth.
To distract himself from tortured prisoners, Tazaro dove back into searching the areas around the main stars for Behemoth Major’s right horn and transcribing until the tire of his eyes caused him to see fuzzy doubles. He sat back, yawned, resigned to his sleepiness, then closed his sketchbook.
After dwindling the fire down with a sprinkle of dirt, Tazaro crawled into his sleeping bag and settled for the night. With budding courage, hope, and excitement in his chest, he wished himself luck for whatever trials lay in wait for him on the journey ahead.