Frend barged in first. He had missed seeing the fox cousin so he was definitely going to be the first to see the Creator today.
Grend came puffing up behind him, slowing down to a casual stroll as he entered and trying hard not to show his annoyance.
“Why do you always run? No one cares who sees him first.”
“But I saw him first today.”
“Well I was down here earlier. So I saw him first.”
“What? No you weren’t. You woke up after me. I was with you all the time. I saw him first.”
“I went to the market. You weren’t with me then.”
“But that was the market. That isn’t in the well.”
“No you idiot. I went to look at the Creator before I went market. When you were playing with the rats.” Grend twirled the keys in his hand.
“No you didn’t. You are lying.”
Frend turned to angrily face up to his brother.
“I SAW HIM FIRST.”
Grend pushed his brother, hard. Frend stumbled but immediately came rushing back, driving low he slammed into his brother and pushed him right back up agains the door. Pinning Grend by the neck he had his fist raised to strike when a fit of coughing broke out behind them.
Frend forgot all about Grend and charged over to where the head of the Creator stood placed in a jar atop a marble desktop. The top was open and the coughing of the old head reverberated around the room.
“Creator. Grend didn’t visit you today. He didn’t. I SAW you first.”
“SHUT UP,” Grend bellowed behind him, “Don’t annoy the Creator with your nonsense.”
The Creator’s eyes blinked open wearily. His face was weathered, wrinkled, a face long since tired of living. Before his decapitation he had appeared as a middle aged man. Handsome, with long flowing hair and a tight beard. Clean cut and with a strong jaw. Now his hair was overgrown, his beard long and unkempt and his jaw puffy and soft.
“How are you feeling today Creator?” Frend asked with one brow raised.
The Creator didn’t answer.
Frend had to put a hand to his mouth to cover his sniggering.
“I bet…I bet he feels…..like a…a right nobody.” Frend erupted into a fit of laughter.
“A right no….body.” He repeated still laughing.
Grend grinned. Frend made the same joke every day but it always served as a mighty source of entertainment for the pair.
The Creator just gritted his teeth. It was day 678 since he had made the mistake of engaging in a particularly extreme night of drinking, the resulting stupor leaving him groggy enough for even the Twins to take advantage of. He had paid for that one night ever since.
As he gazed down at Frend still busy laughing upon the floor and Grend now further amusing his brother by provocatively grinding up against one of the Creator’s arms he began his daily silent berating of both himself and his creations.
The fact that it was the Hippolings, the two he had used for the most menial tasks that were his demise only heightened his self-hatred.
“He isn’t talking again.” Frend had finally pulled himself up off the floor.
“I don’t like when he doesn’t talk. It’s annoying.”
“I know what will make him talk.” Grend stated confidently.
“You do? He never talks.”
“I do.”
Grend cleared his throat and went up to stand in front of the Creator. He tapped hard on the jar’s glass but the Creator kept his eyes staring straight ahead. He had long ago learned to ignore the ramblings of the Twins.
“I saw one of our cousins today.”
“I didn’t see him,” Frend interjected, “But I know what cousin brother is talking about. I know and you don’t.”
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Frend jabbed his finger towards the Creator.
Grend waited but seeing no reaction from inside the jar he sighed.
“I saw fox cousin.”
Eyes flickered. The Creator surprised even himself with the reaction. It had been so long since he’d seen or heard anything that would warrant one.
“Aha.” Grend declared triumphantly. “That got you. We have him Brother. He’s interested in us.”
“He looked. The Creator looked. Ha ha you old fool you looked straight away. He did didn’t he?”
“He did. Straight away.” Grend shook his head sadly, “Straight away.”
“What did he say?” The Creator’s voice was raspy, each word cut his throat in half a hundred ways but he felt compelled to ask.
The foxling had once been his proudest achievement. A being capable of learning even the most complex of spells and inchantations it had been the wizard’s first and only apprentice. That was until it had grown too arrogant in its own ability. Enough even to begin to challenge his Master. The Creator had decided that something was needed to humble his apprentice. After some thought he’d decided that a simple removal of an ear would suffice. A moderate punishment that would re-establish the natural order. Foxling had through some machination uncovered the planned punishment however and made good his escape. Not before first raiding the precious library of some of its most valuable and powerful tones. He had not been heard of since. Until today.
“He said he was happy to hear the Tower was in new hands. I told him that me and my Brother, Frend, I told him that we run the tower now. And all the other cousins have to work for us. We have the keys so they can’t say or do anything to hurt us.”
“That’s thanks to him, isn’t it Brother.” Frend pointed to the Creator.
“Yes Brother it is. It’s thanks to him. His magic means none of the other cousins can hurt us. And they gotta do what we say.”
Grend held out a hand and Frend clasped it in his own.
“They got to do what we say,” Frend repeated in a whisper.
Had he hands the Creator would have raised them to his head at that moment. The keys truly had been a masterpiece. His creations were not always docile, and the prospect of servitude did not overly appeal to them. As a way of ensuring he maintained control the Creator had devised steel collars magically bound to his key. So long as he had that his creations were forced into obeying his every wish. He thought that he had also safeguarded against the key being stolen, for only if he gave them up willingly could a new owner be assigned. Unfortunately, and for some unfathomable drunken reason the Creator had done just that, willingly handing the keys over to Grend. The entire affair a disaster of epic proportions. His mind went numb everytime he though of it.
“Tell him about the gift.” Frend gestured from his Brother to the Creator.
“About the gift fox cousin gave. Tell him about that.”
“Gift?” The Creator croaked. “What gift?”
“A mirror.” Frend stated, drawing a kick from Grend.
“I’ll tell him.” Grend spoke through gritted teeth.
“Fox cousin gave us a mirror. When he heard about us, me and my Brother, Frend-”
“I know who your Brother is.” Creator couldn't help himself.
Grend raised a fist as if to smash the glass.
“Oi, none of that. You want to go back in the ground again? We can do it?”
“We can,” Frend agreed, “I’ll make a fresh hole right now.”
“No, no hole,” The Creator said forcing himself into a smile. No matter how frustrating or tortuous nothing could be worse than the time he’d spent buried underground.
“I merely meant that the twin Hippolings of the Tower are well known to all. And their names along with it.”
Grend eyed the Creator carefully and began scratching his head.
“Right….yeah….. we are well known. That’s right. Me and my Brother Frend. We are well known.”
“Well known to all.” Frend emphasised. “Especially after what we did to that village.”
Grend chuckled, “The one we burned to the ground?”
“Yeah,” Frend laughed, “The one we burned down to the ground.”
“Where is it?” The Creator asked, forcing the words from his mouth.
“The village? Weren’t you listening? We burned it. To the ground. It ain’t there anymore. Gone.”
“Not…not the village.” The Creator pushed down his irritation.
“The mirror, where is it?”
“The one fox cousin gave us?” Frend asked.
The Creator took a deep breath. “Yes Frend. The one fox cousin gave you.”
“It’s in the kitchen, right where we can see it most.” Grend stated. “This isn’t one of those cheap ones. This is a real mirror.”
“It’s ornate,” Frend added.
“Ornate,” Grend nodded.
“Oh,” Frend moved up excitedly, barrelling into his brother.
“Creator. Can a mirror eat you?”
Grend elbowed him aside.
“That’s my question. You shouldn’t steal other people’s questions.”
“Is there runes on the mirror? To the side of the glass, writings, sketchings?”
Grend raised a brow, he had not heard the Creator sound so animated since the earliest days of his imprisonment. He didn't like it.