Sir Thomassin wiped the soggy clumps of loam from the side of his face, scowling. “That was uncalled for, Brittle.”
Brittle ceased his furious pacing and whirled about. His heated glare settled on the knight’s uneaten portion of toast and loam. Brittle stared at it for several purposeful seconds before lifting his gaze and locking eyes with Sir Thomassin. Wordlessly, he allowed the threat of a second sandwich attack to hang in the balmy air above their heads.
Some of the annoyance dissipated from Sir Thomassin’s tight-lipped expression. He raised his hand, running it through his golden curls. “Your passion is commendable, young beast, but woefully misplaced. The gods do not deserve your devotion. Can you name a single thing a god or goddess has ever done for you?”
And he was considered the uncivilized one? Brittle couldn’t believe he was having to explain what should have been obvious. “Breathed life into me? Gave me a great big swamp to call home? A loving Mama to see me through my formative years?”
“Exactly!” The knight latched onto a single point, ignoring the validity of the others as humans were oft to do. “The gods gave you this body, dear boy. They could have gifted any form imaginable, but this is the one they bestowed upon you. And you’re expected to be grateful for that?”
The bark on Brittle’s face flushed as hot as that time he’d wandered too close to a trapper’s campfire. He was going to have smoke billowing out of his ears any moment now, he could feel it. “What’s wrong with my body?”
“You’re a talking stump with arm and leg bits.”
“Mama says I’m beautiful just the way I am!”
“You don’t get it,” Sir Thomassin said with a sigh. “We’re a cosmic joke. All of us. No matter how we beg and plead and pray, nothing ever changes. The gods mock us with their indifference.”
“So your plan is to kill them then, huh?” Two wrongs didn’t make a right, according to Mama. Brittle shouldn’t have been surprised. The majority of mankind never troubled itself with righteousness anyway. Every fiber of his hollow trunk was urging him to leave, but curiosity got the better of him. “Well, who is it?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said you’ve been tasked to kill a goddess. Who are you after?”
The man didn’t answer right away, as though actually using his god-given brain for what may have been the first time that day, if not his life. Finally, lifting one broad shoulder in a shrug, Sir Thomassin relented. “No one of note, unfortunately. The lot I drew was for a lesser deity. Mara, the Goddess of Ill Fortune.”
Outrage surged through Brittle’s core hotter than before, spreading heat to every twiggy finger and gnarled toe. “The goddess of my creation?” He reared to his full height and stomped closer. Alas, even on his tippy toes, he barely towered over the top of the sitting human. “March yourself on over to that snare, bad sir. I’m putting you back where I found you!”
“Now, Brittle, hear me out.”
“No!”
The big stupid-head flapped his useless lips regardless. “I know this might sound mad, but I think the fates sent you to me. Whether you choose to believe it or not, even someone like you may have a role to play in this. This could be your destiny, Brittle.”
“To help you slay she who granted me life? Gifted me my heart stone? Never!”
“No, not the slaying part. You’re much too small to wield a sword,” Sir Thomassin agreed. “You could assist me in other ways, however. Help me locate the canyon for instance. You did mention you were looking for a job, did you not?”
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
“Never!” Brittle screamed. “Even if I knew where the darn canyon was, I would never tell you! Never, ever, ever!”
Sir Thomassin parted his lips to speak, but something behind Brittle caught his attention, and the words snapped back into his mouth. Gilly trotted up between them. She sat on her tail, tongue tumbling out the side of her mouth with a wet gurgle.
“Gilly.” Brittle’s hand flew to his mouth in horror. “How could you even say such a thing? Shame on you, you beastly lizard.”
A venomous smile curled across Gilly’s scaled snout.
“Well of course the Great Maker is immortal. Just ‘cause we know something to be true doesn’t mean we ought to test it. Someone could get hurt.”
“Brittle,” Sir Thomassin interjected, casting a suspicious look between the two, “what’s going on?”
“Gilly knows where to find Stay Away Canyon,” Brittle replied bitterly. “Says she’ll take you there, right now, if you want.”
“The lizard said that?”
Gilly swished her tail in confirmation, still grinning.
“She’s not a lizard, she’s a yellow-bellied snake!” Brittle balled his tiny hands into fists and held them stiffly at his sides. He glared fiercely at the devious swamp monitor. “You’re up to something mighty suspicious, Gilly Girl. I can feel it.”
Sir Thomassin steepled his hands beneath his chin deep in thought whilst Gilly and Brittle stared one another down. “The lizard knows where the Goddess of Ill Fortune lives and is willing to take me there?”
“You’re right to be skeptical, mister. Don’t trust a word she says. She’s up to something.” While the Great Maker required her children to help swamp dweller’s big and small, Brittle was certain the knight did not qualify. The man didn’t even live in the swamp, for peat’s sake!
“May I ask why Gilly is willing to help?”
Gilly chased her tail, tromping about the horsetail ferns with unbridled glee.
Her answer made Brittle sick to his stomach. While Gilly was a loyal friend and a decent neighbor, she had a mean streak that was unbecoming of a proper swamp dweller. “She says you’re going to fail.”
Gilly scowled at him for leaving out the best part.
“And that she wants to watch.”
“Ah, I see,” Sir Thomassin said with a sage nod of his head. With that, he stood and straightened his creaky armor. “Thank you for the sandwich, Brittle. And for cutting me down. You best get home to your Mama now.”
“But–”
“I accept. Come, Gilly. We’d better be on our way if we wish to reach the canyon by sundown.”
The poor man must have hit his head too hard. Brittle’s timber shoulders dropped in disbelief. “Did you miss the part where Gilly thinks you’re going to die?”
“Well I’ll just have to prove her wrong, won’t I?”
“With what? You don’t even have a sword. You threatened me with a stick earlier, remember?”
“Fear not.” Sir Thomassin patted the metal plate strapped to his chest knowingly. It produced a metallic thud. “I have a trick up my sleeve. Lead on, Gilly Lizard. It’s time to see what mettle this goddess is truly made of.”
Gilly’s entire body performed an enthusiastic wiggle. Opening and closing her cavernous maw, the giant pink and orange lizard turned and galloped in the opposite direction, leading Sir Thomassin further into the woods. The knight strode after her with long, confident steps, undeterred by the perils ahead.
Brittle’s worried gaze swept from them, to the swamp just beyond the ring of cypress trees, and then back again. Guilt wriggled beneath his bark like hungry, wood-boring grubs. He didn’t want any harm to come to the Great Maker. While his undying adoration did not extend to Sir Thomassin, he didn’t want the knight to die either. What’s more, without Gilly, he would have to return home alone. Brittle didn’t think he could fare another long night in an empty hovel all by his lonesome.
And then an idea occurred to him. Perhaps he could intervene. Stop both parties before either did something rash. Then, as a reward, maybe the goddess would grant him a favor. She could right the wrong mankind had committed, and return all of the missing bog log beasts to the swamp where they belonged.
Mama included.
The thought of seeing her again caused tears to well up in his eyes. Wiping the moisture away, Brittle turned and followed in the direction Gilly and Sir Thomassin had gone. “Blessed be the Great Maker,” he whispered as he traveled the farthest from home he’d ever gone before. “For She who stubs Her toe grants strength to those with heartwood thick and true. Wherever we may wander, She hobbles too. Deliver me the courage to brave the perils ahead through and through.”
Deep in his hollow bones, Brittle knew of all the foolish things he’d ever done, this was by far the mightiest. But maybe, just maybe, there would be a mother when he returned home again, waiting to scold him for it.