When Elia imagined what kind of place the home of the gods, Nos Deindolen, was, she had imagined a city of gold with imposing, temple-like architecture that spoke of an ego only outshone by the implication that whoever lived there had to be compensating for something. Maybe their mothers never loved them. Maybe they had wanted to one-up each other with ever more shiny toys.
Instead, as she left the walled inner courtyard behind the gatehouse, she was confronted with a scattered city of stone built into – but mostly around – a lake of sky-blue water that seemed to have popped up out of nowhere. Trees spilled from in between stones and on top of every surface. Their trunks were completely white, as were their roots and leaves, the only sign of color being a shrub of flowers popping up here and there from the masonry. Upon closer inspection of a statue that represented a mixed creature of a dragon and a dog she was sure it must have had a golden finish, except now much of it was tarnished and dirty.
The place looked old, not a single stone left undecorated, every path measured and exact. It looked forgotten, like nobody cared if the arm-thick roots were digging over and into the winding paths. It looked forbidden, and stepping over a small bridge over a canal felt like a definite trespass.
“We’re here,” she said. “We’re actually here and none of the gods could stop us. We’re here!”
She stretched her arms and laughed maniacally. One of her snakes drooped down in front of her, tongue flicking nervously.
Let’s not get overzealous now. We need to meet our patron goddess and do her fetch-quest, or whatever she’ll ask of us. Do you even know where to go?
Elia scoffed. “Nothing easier than that.”
She sacrificed an uncommon bone shard through her Valti statue.
“I’m past the gate. Where do I go?”
Within moments, a paper-slip fell from the sky.
“The tower with the thorns. Well done.”
She looked around. There was a tower sinking in a sea of blooming hedges, and the largest tower was literally glowing with golden light as if to say “my billionaire-dick is bigger than yours”. It was hard to tell anything with all the growth and buildings cluttering her vision, so Elia hopped onto the nearest elaborate ruin for a better view. But as she reached the top, she caught a whiff of an unpleasant smell.
Tar. Terrible, horrible, ugly, sticky, living tar. It’s here! Oh, why here?
“Quiet.” Elia squinted, looking for the source.
A lone figure hobbled along the path she had just taken. It was a woman, dressed as a maid with the addition of improvised armor in a mix of steel, gold, and rare bronze sewn into her flowy outfit.
She gurgled slightly as she stopped a few feet below Elia. Then, as if suddenly getting bored with her task, she turned on her heels and moved back to where she had come from. All the while, she trailed drops of a sickly-writhing dark mass.
Gah, I knew it! Why are we even here? Let’s go back. Let’s head home.
“We need to do none of that.” She sighed. “Home doesn’t exist for us anyways.”
We need to apologize to Karla.
That… was a task becoming harder to complete by the minute. “Later. Now, where is that damn thorn tower?”
Finally, she found it, a modest building that was tilting slightly, covered in angry brown vines and mostly hidden by the flower tower.
“Alright. Let’s get to it.”
***
Six hours in, Elia was ready to accept that she was not having a good time. Enemies were hidden in each corner, and these ones were feisty. Most of them must have been immortal beforehand, because even with her two-hundred years of experience, a couple dregs managed to surprise her.
Elia left a trail of immortal dead in her wake, the last of the horde having cut a straight slash across her chest. The tail-end of that fight caught the attention of a patrol of tar-knights and she cut them with considerable care, using her untarnishable glaive to some effect. After that slog, she breathed in, added some more mismatched armor to her arm and leg, took another step, and was immediately blasted by a trio of (relatively) small scale-feathered sky serpents.
They were only as large as a large dog. And she knew that for a fact because there were a lot of dogs to compare them to.
“So, so many damn dogs.” she groaned.
It was a literal wave of shaggy golden fur and bloodied sharp teeth that spoke of an appetite for human flesh. Individually, they ranged from collie sized to twice the shoulder-height of a wolfdog. Elia was pretty sure they reproduced via mitosis, because for every one she killed, three more borked their way out from the underbrush.
This is leading nowhere. We should ignore them and just move on.
“Yeah, I – Ow, get off! – agree.”
She kicked an undead doggo off her calf, then [Frog Leap]ed over the next larger canal. The wave of dogs was never ending, but besides strength, finesse, and toughness, Elia had one other thing over them: opposable thumbs.
Climb, you fool!
The half-broken buildings had just the right amount of decoration, ornamentation, and crenellation to get her fingers on, around, and in between. She pulled herself up, and up. Once far enough to be out of reach of the sea of biting maws, she eyeballed the distance to the next building and hopped from roof to roof.
The horde followed her and soon enough, the only way to the next bit of high ground was to get down and dirty with it.
“Hmmm,” Elia hmmed. “I think we can vault this.”
She took a running start and – combining [Frog leap] with using her glaive as a pole – propelled herself far into the air, flying out of reach of the dogs before landing on a broken arch and doing it again. This worked the first time. It even worked the second time. By the third, it had become routine. By the fourth, it was starting to feel fun, which was always a bad sign.
A chain of steel snagged her ankle and tore her out of the air, slamming her into the ground. Elia gasped once, then twirled around and in a single empowered strike cut the chain and beheaded the tar knight that had been hiding in a dark nook between the hedges. He was dead on the spot, but that didn’t help Elia. His weapon was covered in tar and the scales where he hit her around her ankle were already turning an off-yellow color.
“Shit.” She had been overconfident and sloppy, that was the only way an ambush as simple as this could have gotten her. If she was completely honest with herself, then this should have happened much sooner. The tar knights had her and Karla in their sights for the better part of a year. One small mistake was seeing their dozen failed ambushes and dismissing them as weak, ignoring that they only needed one to succeed.
Now what to do? Burn her leg off with demon fire? Fire and tar didn’t mix well. Cut it with the shard knife? No, she wouldn’t make it to where she needed to be.
No way but forward. Faster now.
The puddle of tar the knight dissolved into burbled at her. “You can’t run forever, poppet.”
Ignoring the pain of her leg slowly mutating, she leapt over the next hedge onto a free-standing pillar, and from there onto an overgrown chapel. Now that she knew what to look out for, the ambushes were easier to spot. The tar was everywhere in this unkempt garden maze.
She passed the flower tower, the thorny one lying straight ahead. It looked rotten and decayed, overgrown like the rest.
I thought the gods hated plants and trees. It almost looks like nobody’s home.
“That would explain a lot.”
Out of the corner of her eye another hindrance approached. A real bird twice as large as a bald eagle was in the middle of swooping down to her. At the apex of her next jump, Elia twisted and sent a slash of moonlight flying at it, which clipped its wing and sent it twirling.
That of course meant that the other two coming in from behind had an easier time. The eagle-owls slapped her out of the sky immediately. One moment she was feeling the giddy feeling of having almost reached her goal. In the next, three cow-sized scaled birds were dive bombing her with claws as sharp as sickles and attitudes like an angry hamster.
A fireball exploded in her face with a sharp crack and she suddenly felt pain in her right leg.
The birds have guns! Sense cried as Elia grabbed one of them by their feet, where the simple firearms were attached with rods and twine. Why do they have guns!?
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“I don’t know, I don’t care!” She dropped her halberd, grabbing it with her thighs, then stabbed the birds twice with her free hand, killing one and wounding the other. The bird above must have pulled a muscle because they began descending rapidly towards the overgrown hedge maze.
“Not another maze, not another maze. Pull uuup, you stupid chicken!”
The tower approached at a heart-stopping speed. Elia’s snakes braced as she hit it with enough speed to shatter the glass. She rolled herself into a ball, then bounced onto the tip of her left foot, changing her course just enough so she landed on the eagle-owl, sword first.
There was a shriek and a flap of metal wings. Her snakes tried to bite it, but to little effect. It died to her blade, leaving the other two circling outside, filling the air with shrill caws.
That could have gone worse.
“Not by much.” Elia winced. She weighed using her last water bottle against crawling down three stories of stairs in the hopes that the goddess of hunting could get her a fix.
Elia didn’t have much dignity to spare. But she reasoned that it would be better to show up standing on two functioning legs, just in case Valti asked her to do something inacceptable.
Like forgive some of the gods for being a total dick. Or doing community service.
The staircase spiraled down past a series of abandoned rooms. One looked like it was a study. Another was dedicated entirely to the storage of bows and little, hand-carved animal figurines. There was no copper and silver ornamentation, no ludicrously large architecture or self-fellating busts and statues. A fine layer of dust covered everything.
“Do you suppose gods have shrines to themselves inside their houses?” she asked as she hurried down.
Unless they are particularly in love with themselves, then no. Remember, shrines aren’t just symbols of power and worship, they serve as practical connections to divine power. And it would be weird. Imagine if you had a statue of yourself in your home.
Elia did imagine it, if only for a bit. “I don’t think it would work. People would constantly mistake me for Rye.”
“You do tend alike, you two,” came a voice from nearby.
Elia jumped, narrowly missed the ceiling, then backpedaled to the doors to what she thought was an attic. They were leaned open just enough to imply that whoever wanted to enter was technically welcome, but should really think twice whether they wanted to be that much of a bother. Elia peeked in through the crack.
She was expecting a list of many things, but what she wasn’t expecting was a bedroom with an oval bed reaching from side to side. The figure sitting on it was clearly Valti, the same sharp face shape and tousled hair as on Elia’s wooden idol. Except, where the carver had portrayed her with the proportions of some age-old ideal beauty, the girl in front of her was just a kid.
She was plain and had a face as if the world had wronged her one too many times. Elia would have missed that she was a god at all if it wasn’t literally spelled out for her.
You are in the presence of a god
“Come in now,” the goddess said in a high voice, still chewing on a claw. “I have awaited this meeting for some time.”
Elia blinked, and carefully shuffled inside. The room looked… homely, in the kind of reclusive, overindulged child kind of way. There were a lot of plushies, all showing a different kind of animal, real or imagined. There wasn’t much space for anything else besides that and the bed.
“I am Valti, goddess of the hunt, the distant lady, and last proxy of the house Worga-Ruthe,” she said, clutching a plush salmon.
“Hi, I’m Elia,” Elia said, because she couldn’t think of a better way to break the ice with a goddess. “I expected you to be a lot taller.”
“And I expected you to be a lot more terrifying in person. I myself can take any shape I want, but being a child has proven convenient.” Her eyes flicked from Elia’s face to her snakes. “I see my boon has served you well.”
“It saved my ass big time. Thanks for that.” Elia released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Look, not to be rude, but this realm of the gods makes me feel unwelcome and I’d rather not spend much more time up here. What do you need me to do? Stab a rival you don’t like?”
The girl snorted. “I suppose as far as pleasantries go, that was a good attempt. You are not far off, though your eagerness is somewhat concerning. Let me ask you this: How do you feel about the state of the world?”
“Honestly?” Elia looked around. “It’s pretty shit.”
The goddess kept staring at her with those yellow eyes. “Elaborate.”
“Everybody is so caught up worrying about dying and killing and clinging to power. I am caught up in it, my friends are, everyone is because everyone wants to survive. It’s…” Not satisfying. Not right. “I’d like to change that.”
She waited in case she had said something wrong. But she didn’t get the feeling that Valti would punish her for it. In fact, she didn’t get the feeling she could punish her. It wasn’t just that she was a kid, it felt like whatever was behind the façade was barely propping it up.
“So, you do see. Good.” She smiled, revealing sharp teeth like a dog or a cat. “I too wish for change. I am sure you have figured it out by now, but the undead prophecy does not serve yourself. Mend the grail – what a delusion, and delusions are for fools.”
“Hold up.” This was going a bit fast. “Why won’t fixing it fix the world? Even little bits of it can make you insanely powerful. It’s supposed to be the one thing that can make anything happen.”
“And how do you think it does that? By creating power out of nothing? No, great things were sacrificed in its creation, and great things were sacrificed in its upkeep. All things have a price – now therein lies a truth none can deny. And yet, due to neglect and hubris, the world rolls down a steep slope of imbalance.”
Elia reeled. She thought she had it all figured out. Go up, take the wheel, remove the tar knights, the legion’s fire.
“But… you’re a god. Gods have power, even if they’re not almighty. This place is full of them, all yanking the world around at their tiniest whim, right?”
The goddess laughed, actually laughed. “Nobody has such influence, except maybe those born of Worga’s womb, or those sycophants who played their great game well enough. But not us, not me and my sister. Bound to these towers we were, after they split our mother-father into four. Hostages we were, for it was not gods who ruled these lands, but fear of the missing fourth, and spite for all the world.”
“Then, then… what about the other gods?” Elia blinked, confused. “Where are they? Show me where someone with actual power and authority is, so I can shove both my boots up their ass.”
“None are left. All with martial might, every soldier and squire left with Worga to gather souls in the forest, or more likely, to die in one last hurrah. The servants of Nos Deindolen that remained have been decimated through infighting and all manner of despoiling. Ruthe has long since sequestered himself in his study and not come out. Wroti returned like a storm and crashed through his decree, intent to force him to use his power, yet she was always the most loyal, and none saw her leave the grand temple. Aurana should still be around, stewing in jealousy and ambition. I have yet to hear from any others, but besides my sister they all died in petty squabbles without a doubt. Really, they thought inviting undead to take their souls was a smart move, ignorant or unwilling to accept that even a dreg may fight back, and win.”
“I…” This was all so much to take in. “Fuck, can the bowl at least heal my leg?” She lifted it up, where her scales were growing darker, trending towards black.
At that, the goddess’ eyes twitched. “When did you get this injury?”
“An hour ago, out in the hedge maze.”
Valti stilled, nervously licking her lips. “I suppose the grail might be able to purge such influence. It might not. But you could not command it anyways. You require both credit and worthiness in abundance. While I have no doubt about your capacity to gather one, you will inevitably flounder with the other. Someone holds a grudge against you.”
“Aurana,” Elia growled. “She gave me this bounty. And Rokokoko too.”
Valti slowly licked her lips. “You have a great well inside of yourself, a potential for destruction deep as bones. You will commit a sin most grave, the gravest sin there will ever be. I want you to tear down this false order of the gods to the foundations and scrive its name from memory. I would have you find the grail, and destroy it.”
“Won’t that destroy the world?”
Valti shrugged. “No one has ever succeeded, thereby no one knows for certain. But the world existed before its order, and even if it does not after, oblivion is better than this hell of eternal suffering, isn’t it?”
Maybe it was. “You don’t look like you’re suffering all that much.”
“I am a child because it is convenient, not because I like it, because I don’t go noticed, because this way at least Ruthe won’t–” she bit her lip. There was a bite to her voice, laced with the kind of pain Elia knew. Old pain, scars that never quite healed. “Once, we had the world for ourselves, me and my kin. A forest where life begot death and death begot life anew. This order of tepid waters and cold stone sickens me. Perhaps it should all burn, and me with it.”
Elia opened her mouth and closed it. “Maybe. Say, I’m also on the lookout for a missing person, my girlfriend's mom. She uses a boon to heal herself and fight in close combat. Ring any bells?”
“That depends. Do we have an accord?”
She thought about it, thought what Karla would say if she came down the mountain without even having tried at all. “I’ll do my best.”
You have sworn an oath
It felt like weight lifting off every inch of her skin, like nothing was holding her back now. Elia straightened out her back, then winced as she saw the oath. There went any hope for keeping the promise entirely verbal.
“I have little interest in the comings and goings of ascenders.” A bit arrogant, considering the tar knights were right at her door. “But if she is like all the others, then she will have made for the throne room, and for Ruthe’s study in the caves behind. In that place most well-hidden lies the grail.”
“Past the throne room, in the cave. Gotcha.” Elia gave her a thumbs up and was about to leave when she turned on her heel. “Hey, you’re good with animals, right?”
Valti blinked. “I am the goddess of hunting, yes.”
“Neat.” She took out Quibbles to show him to her. He was showing himself from his best side. “This little boy has been with me for about two-hundred years. He’s helped me out in a bunch of small ways and he has this uncanny… je ne sais quoi that makes me think there is more to him.”
“May I?” The goddess took Quibbles gently into her cupped hands. She lifted him up. She gave him a sniff, just one. Then she gave him back, with a look of confusion on her face. “This is… a normal toad. Entirely ordinary.”
“Really?”
“He is undead. And he is very intelligent. Upper percentile, as far as toads go. Had he been born a human, he might have changed the world with his thoughts. Like Hippopopates, or Pawil the Apostate.”
“Huh.” Elia scratched her head. “He somehow survived Quintus’ flames unscathed.”
“Try poking him.”
Elia poked him. Right at the point where her prodding became annoying, Quibbles’s skin turned into stone. Then after a second, he turned back, looking no less annoyed.
“I have never seen him do this once.” Elia squinted at Quibbles. “Oh you dastardly little bean. What else are you hiding, hm?”
Quibbles refrained from any comments.
“You really are an odd one.” The goddess sighed. “A word of advice. Do try to find the grail before that sickly man of tar does. Theirs is a world of eternal strife. And I am certain you of all people agree that none deserve to suffer so for our sins and the sins of our fathers.”