“You simple-minded idiot!” the Hand of Water hissed. “Now the entire city will be on the lookout!”

“They were on the lookout before,” the Hand of Wind answered unapologetically. “How many others did you see detained by the guards? Practically anyone from outside the city lives in those jails now.”

“How did that scholar see us?” the Hand of Fire asked. “Our protections fool every sense, even the Sight.”

“Scholars are strange,” the Hand of Earth answered. “Who knows what their studies bring about.”

The Hands of Light and Dark stayed silent, content to let the others bicker while they determined what to do.

How did that scholar locate us? The Hand of Light thought to their companion.

It doesn’t matter. The Hand of Dark answered. All that matters is we’re exposed. Earlier than expected as well.

It doesn’t change the plan. The Hand of Light mused. They know we’re here but our stealth is a gift from the Pantheon. Simple guardsman with ancestral weapons won’t be an issue.

True. The Hand of Dark replied.

“You made things harder on us!” the Hand of Water complained. “The scholar only caught a glimpse. We could have been away before the guardsmen looked up.”

“And then we’d get found again,” Wind said flippantly.

The Hand of Water reflexively reached for the canister at their belt.

“Enough.”

The Hand of Light’s command was quiet, but it carried with it a force that halted the bickering duo.

“Our plan remains the same. The only change is the number of guardsmen we must pass. An issue for which we were already prepared.”

“The Pantheon’s gifts will see us through,” the Hand of Dark said, moving in behind their companion.

“Of that,” the Hand of Water answered. “I have no doubt.”

The group turned to leave, but both Hands of Light and Dark saw Water’s lips thin with agitation at Wind. Neither said anything, as both knew the pact between each of them kept either from acting out.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

----------------------------------------

Walter awoke on a bed of something akin to silk, Flipper nestled directly against his neck. An aching throbbed from his jugular to the rest of his body, like a lighthouse spreading to the ocean. He groaned.

“Awake already?” a voice said in surprise.

Walter attempted to shift and look at the speaker, but found the action sent drills of pain through his neck.

“Don’t move. You’re lucky to be alive,” the voice said.

Walter turned his eyes to the voice, finally getting a glimpse of the person speaking. It was Gom of all people.

“I thought I was suspicious,” Walter wheezed.

“Well, taking a knife to the throat tends to change things,” Gom answered.

Walter snorted, then groaned again as another lance of pain stabbed into him. Flipper, now awake, squeaked in alarm and pressed his forehead against the god’s cheek.

“The little thing wouldn’t leave you alone,” Gom answered. “We believe he’s the one who saved you as well. Kept most of your blood from draining with that impressive shield.”

“Okay,” Walter answered, unsure of what else to say.

The pain was quickly lessening, Walter’s godlike nature quickly overtaking his human one. He could feel pinpricks where his nerves reformed, the act uncomfortably itchy. Walter involuntarily brought a hand up to scratch it.

Flipper took notice and laid a shield over the wound, preventing the act.

“Flipper, please,” Walter pleaded. “I can’t bear the itch.”

Flipper shook his head, refusing.

“There’s a chance the wound reopens,” Gom answered. “Best not to pick at it.”

“I’ll be fine in a short while,” Walter answered. “Where are we, by the way?”

“I’m going to choose to ignore that first statement,” Gom said. “As to where we are? This is the castle infirmary.”

Walter felt at the sheets. “Nice place for an infirmary.”

Gom shrugged. “The head maid used to be a Threadspinner. She makes all of the cloth in the castle.”

Images of spiders crawled unbidden into Walter’s mind, and the man had to repress a shudder.

“I apologize,” Gom blurted out.

Walter curled an eyebrow. “What?”

“I took you for an assassin. A threat that had come to ruin the coronation after Garegom’s death.”

“Not your fault,” Walter answered, sighing a bit as the itching finally subsided. “You were right, I was suspicious.”

“You still are,” Gom answered. “Just not in the dangerous way.”

Walter chuckled, the act much less painful. “Good to know.”

“I do need to ask,” Gom said.

Walter found the strength to turn, looking the guardsman in the eye.

Gom pointed to Flipper. “What is that, exactly?”

“Flipper is Flipper,” Walter answered.

Gom shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. That animal doesn’t exist in nature.”

“I’m not sure what you mean?” Walter said.

Gom brought a hand to his head. “Look, when you fell, all four of us used our Sight to find the culprit. The others didn’t get a look since they were already looking away from you, but I wasn’t.”

Walter froze. He checked his camouflage. It wasn’t there. His divine energy swirled around him protectively, ready to deal with any more threats that appeared.

“Flipper, or whatever it is, isn’t a beast,” Gom said. “In fact, my Sight says you created him. But that can’t be the case. Creation of the living is something of the gods. We might see divine energy, and can alter something that already exists, but crafting a living being from nothing… Well, that’s impossible.”