Kavaa watched Kassandora put her hand on the table and lift the knife. She had brought Of War a bucket, a towel and a bottle of water too. They had talked for a minute or two, more advice on what to do, what else to bring Kass before they were ready to unleash War on this world once again, and then Kassandora got right to it.
In one quick stab, she impaled her hand on the table straight to the hilt, the yanked her arm back and split the rest of the hand: bone, veins, muscle and skin. All that for a grimace. “I guess I’ve grown rusty.” Kassandora said. “It hurt less in the past.” Kavaa shook her head. There was no other Divine who would describe tearing their palm apart like that as merely ‘it hurt less in the past.’ Of War swung her arm to Kavaa, her own blood spraying over the walls, the floor, over Kavaa’s dress.
Good thing she had expected this and worn a work uniform.
“Now let’s see what you can do.” Kassandora said.
“This would normally take me twenty seconds or so to heal, maybe a bit more.”
“Make it two.”
“Are you sure?” Kavaa reached forwards and held the two halves of the Goddess’ broken hand.
“How bad can it be?”
The healing process hurt considerably more than making the wound. It was the first time Kavaa had seen Kassandora collapse. Of War ripped the knife out of the wood. “Again, until I can take it, again.”
Fer sat around in a circle with the commanding figures of her herd, a campfire in-between them, the rest of the valley lit up by a thousand more. The huge minotaur Traius was there, his two great horns winding twice in a circle before ending in jagged points, his muscled chest bare from the neck until the animal took over again at his waist and his legs sprouted dark brown fur. Next to him sat the three leading dark furs, goatmen clad entirely in sleek black hair like that of a dog’s, the flames danced in their eyes and its reflection danced on their hides. Kanstantin, Naro and Traian, they led the magical aspect of her herd. Logar sat on the other side of Fer, the wolfman in charge of day-to-day runnings of the back. From disputes over hunts to firewood, he stopped all but the most urgent news reaching its way to Packmaster. Everyone but the Goddess was covered in wounds and scars received during the conclusion of the Greatest Hunt, everyone proudly flaunted them as humans and elves would flaunt medals.
Fer reclined onto the bison hide, humans would find it rough, dwarves would find it demeaning, elves would call it barbaric. Fer loved it, she twisted her spine and scratched her back, her golden mane of hair thick enough to serve as a pillow. “About Iliyal.” Logar spoke up. “I know I’ve asked already but I would urge to unite the pack with his forces.”
“We cannot.” Fer said. She had explained it at least everyday, but she didn’t mind. They weren’t in a hunt, nor was Logar particularly annoying with his requests. The wolfman had their best interests in his heart, he was simply sentimental. “We are unable to hide this large a force, it would reveal the General’s location and bring him trouble. I don’t want that.”
“If a need arises, we can return to him.” Traius added, his voice a low rumbling avalanche. The man had missed all but the ending of the battle, his skin was untarnished with fresh scars and the small posture of the giant evidently said it brought him shape.
“And if we move west, we risk aggravating the Pantheon Divines.” One of the darkfurs said. That was the true reason Fer had kept away from the West. Guguoan hunts were easier to fend off than Allasaria, although she had explained before, no reason to do it again.
“To think Huntsmaster was not killed by us.” Kanstantin shook his head as he spoke. Unlike the rest of the pack, dark furs expressed their beast on the outside. They all spoke with the intonation of educated men.
“How do you think he would have tasted?” Fer asked absent-mindedly as she looked up at the stars, her finger tracing the constellations.
“Sweet no doubt.” Kanstantin answered.
“No no.” Logar said. “Like deer.”
“Like man.” Traius said.
“Not like Guguoan I hope!” Naro said and the campfire chuckled.
“They eat too much rice and not enough meat.” Kanstantin agreed with his fellow darkfur.
“Aye.” Logar said as he leaned back and rested on his arms, a fresh slash across his lean chest proudly displayed. “But with Huntsmaster’s death, I worry for the safety of the Pack.”
“If they come, let them come.” Fer said. “We’ve had an Age of peace, Ages come and go.”
“And these… guns?” Traius said the word awkwardly.
“I remember when the spear came about.” Fer calmed her children. “Others thought it would be an end to us. We adapted. Then the bow. We adapted. The boar-pike, the crossbow, the musket, armour, from leather to chain to plate, it was supposed to be our end every time. We are still here.” Fer finished.
“But they are a change.”
“Your fingers are too large, but I’m sure we can find one for you to use if you’re so worried.” A shooting star! Amazing! The rest of the campfire laughed as the minotaur shook his head. Fer thought about the idea. Beastmen were hesitant to use sword and axe and hammer, until they did. Then they were hesitant to don armour over fur, until they did. Her brow narrowed. Why should they not use rifles? She blinked in shock, amazed at her own intelligence.
What an idea!
“PACKMASTER! PACKMASTER!” A lesser satyr interrupted their rest. A small figure, taller than a human naturally, but comparing themselves to humanity was a needless exchange. He was half a head shorter than Logar, a full head lacking to the darkfurs, Traius stood over him half his height again and more than twice as wide, whereas Fer towered over them all. “PACKMASTER! IT IS URGENT!”
“I heard no alarms.” Fer said lazily. Maybe her glorious red-haired sister Of War would have executed the fellow for breaching the chain of command, but Fer held little value in such concepts. She would not cut off a finger simply because it was weaker than the arm. “So? Speak.” Every pair of red eyes turned to the satyr and he took a heavy breath.
“It is cause for celebration.” He said.
“Even better then.” Fer said. “Now out with it.” She put a snap into her tone, it was one thing to not kill needlessly, it was another entirely to train animals and maintain strength.
“Your sister has returned.” Fer blinked. The campfire now slowly turned to her, every bestial face contorted into a cruel mix of shock and awe, teeth spiling from maws and beady red eyes growing larger. Fer sat up instantly.
“Sister?” She shouted. “Here? Now?” The satyr nodded immediately. “Which one? Now? Take me to her!”
“She is coming here.” The satyr replied. “She… ahh… we tried to slow her down but…”
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“Do not worry! Do not worry!” Fer jumped up to her feet like a prancing jaguar. “So whi-“ Fer’s eyes went to the ambient green glow slowly approaching from behind the satyr. There was a crowd behind slowly creeping behind her, of beastmen in nothing but sheer awe.
It was a pale horse, ashen, tinted with the ghastly green of a soul made to stay too long on this world. Two great wings of delicate feathers folded by its side, it slowly trotted in the air, a foot above the grass. Its eyes were of black pitch but its mouth still let out the warmth of condensation in the cold tundra air around them. Fer’s eyes swallowed it all in their awe.
And on that ashen horse, rides Death.
* Ending to Neneria’s Prayer.
Neneria sat sideways on Pegaz, her first steed. It had served for several millennia, it will serve for several more. The darkfur did indeed know the tracks, and he had led her effortlessly here. They had floated over rivers, across valleys and sidestepped mountains. Above the coniferous treetops untouched by civilization until they finally caught up to the nomadic beastmen. Fer was good, if it had taken almost ten sleepless days and nights for Neneria, mortals would not stand a chance.
Neneria rode in her black cloak, she always had a soft spot for dresses and tight bodices, but a millennia of hiding had taught her not to flaunt herself. Simple travelling clothes hidden with a black cloak was enough. Her sister was apparently the opposite. Fer could be gazed upon from a mile away and the only conclusion a sane mind would come to was that they were looking at a Divine or a madwoman; She was in a white lion’s mane. The animal skin barely covered whatsoever, worn more like a cape of honour rather than clothes.
Neneria rolled her eyes. A thousand years of wilderness would bring the civilization out of anyone, but Fer had always been like this. She remembered when Arascus had to force her to actually put on a- “NENE!” Two arms wrapped themselves around waist and she was thrown off Pegaz. She fell backwards as something warm embraced and immediately curled into a ball to absorb the impact, tried to.
Neneria landed on the grass behind her as the winged horse faded into thin air. A choir of oohs and aahs echoed her steed returning to rest as Neneria blinked to recover her vision. Two bright yellow eyes stared down at her, below them sat a smile so wide it almost split her sister’s face, fangs revealing themselves. Thick golden hair cascaded down like curtains on a bed, two arms serving as bed posts. “You are an animal.” Neneria said as she caught her breath. She tried to push Fer off her herself but the beast was simply too heavy.
“YOU’RE ALIVE!” Why did she have to shout? Neneria was right there.
“I am.” Neneria said. “As are you.”
“OF COURSE I AM!” Fer poked Neneria’s cheek, then her forehead. What was she doing? Was she going to stab her eyes out? “AND YOU’RE REAL!” Neneria tried pushing at Fer again. How much did she weigh? What was this?
“Get off me.” Neneria said as she tried to slide away. “You’re heavy.”
“Sorry sorry.” Fer said. Neneria grunted when Fer’s knee dug into her stomach as she stood up. Was she doing it on purpose at this point? There was only so much a lack of culture could excuse! Neneria pushed herself up with her elbows trying to get up until Fer’s hand grabbed her shoulder. Is this what feathers felt when you flung them into the wind? Fer lifted Neneria off her feet and then delicately set her down, delicately for the Goddess of Beasthood, not for Of Death.
Neneria groaned as her knees chattered. She looked ahead at the horde of beastmen staring in awe at the two. “Everyone!” Fer shouted, immediately, there was still sweetness in her tone but it was obviously a command. “Meet my sister! This is a great day!” Wolves started to howl, goats started to bleat, bulls roared and the valley entered into an orchestral cacophony. Fer waited with a bright smile for this mass of animals to settle down. “Rations are doubled tonight! Make feast and make merry!” The cacophony returned for twice as long.
Neneria had never considered herself short. Kassandora just beat her out, as did Irinika and Arascus but she always thought height was one of her strengths. Here Neneria was obviously the second tallest, she towered over the beastmen; she only reached Fer’s shoulder. Of Beasthood never waved it anyone’s face though, she turned to Neneria, grabbed her arms and lifted her into the air. Neneria feared her what her arms would feel like tomorrow. “Nene!”
If there was one thing Neneria hated, it was that nickname. “Nene!” Did Fer know? Why did she repeat it? “You’re back!” Didn’t they go through this already? Fer hugged Neneria like a doll. Of Death wondered if this is what mortals felt like when they were being crushed by bears.
“Please Fer.” Neneria said. “Put me down.” It was one thing to fly through the air, it was another when she was being manhandled.
“One minute.” Fer purred into her ear. She held her close like that and Neneria eventually returned the hug. She collapsed into that golden mane, it was rugged leather that was soft as snow. Fer squeezed her one last time and finally let her go. Neneria landed on the ground and stretched her chest.
Broken arms before, what were broken ribs to add to that list? “Come, come, sit at the fire, it’s warm.”
“You didn’t have to crush me like that.” Neneria said as she looked at the audience they had. Fer had told them to be merry and some chanting songs were beginning in the distance, but she doubted those close would do anything but watch.
“I had to mark you.” Fer replied happily as stood next to a fire. A bullman was there, a wolfman and three darkfurs. Neneria took a step forwards and realised what Fer had just said. A dozen curses, a hundred insults and a thousand questions ran through her mind. She pushed them all away. Frankly, she did not want to know. “Sit sit.” Fer patted the ground as the rest of the beastmen stared at her in silence.
Should they bow? Incline their heads? She wasn’t a member of their pack though… But… Whatever. Beastmen rarely entertained Neneria, there was no reason to worry about them. She sat crossed legged on the ground and Fer lay down behind her, sprawled around her as if someone was about to stab Neneria in the back. “This is Logar.” Fer said, the wolfman inclined his head. “Kanstantin, Naro, Traian.” The dark furs. “And Traius.” The bullman gave Neneria a single silent nod, Fer introduced them to her as if she was showing off dolls to her older sibling. “This is Nene.” Fer said to the beastmen.
“Neneria, Goddess of Death.” Neneria growled, although Fer talked over her.
“She is one of my sisters, she is not of the blood but she is a member of the Pack.” Immediately, every expression changed. From wary and careful and awe to surprised, then to joy and happiness and even more awe.
“It is fantastic to have two Divines in the pack.” On of the dark furs said. Naro Neneria thought his name though.
“Of Death?” Traius asked. “That is indeed a title.” Beady little red eyes stared at her and Neneria gave a nod.
“Nene is quite shy.” Fer said. “So don’t bother her with questions for now.” Neneria gave a heavy sigh. She was not shy, she simply… whatever. There was no reason to argue with her sister over such trite. “So Nene? How have you been? Or do you want my side of the story first?” Neneria had come here expecting… Neneria did not know what she had come expecting. Fer was, had and will always be like this.
“I found something.” Neneria chose her words carefully. “And I wanted your help with it.”
“Anything I can do, the Pack will follow.” Fer did not get it. Kassandora would have got it. Irinika would have understood what she was asking for. Fer did not.
“I meant…” Neneria stopped and thought for a while. “Can we talk somewhere more… private?” She squeezed that final word out of herself.
“I shared my campfire today, I will not chase people out of it.” Fer said. The woman still sounded happy even when she was disagreeing. “And what I know, the Pack will know, so you can ask me here.”
“I…” Neneria said. She thought of whispering the words to Fer but these were beastmen. They could hear listen to heartbeats. “I found something.” Neneria said, the beastmen in front of her shared glances. “Well I took it, but I need a safe place to…” To break a God. Neneria left that unsaid.
“Where the Pack is, there is safety.” Fer said. “No harm will come to you while I am here.” Neneria shook her head. She wasn’t afraid of these beastmen, even if they came at her all at once, she could crush them. How did Fer not… whatever. The woman had a dog for brain, dogs had to be told things explicitly and directly.
“I have found Atis’ soul.” Neneria said as outright as she knew how to. “And I have it with me.” She brought out the soul jar from the bag underneath her cloak. Fer’s smile dropped.
“Oh.” Oh indeed. The audience around the campfire who were not even pretending not to listen in fell into silence, and the five… Neneria wondered what they were? Captains? That seemed good enough. The five captains followed along with the audience.
“We would need a sequestered spot.” One of the darkfurs said. What was his name? Traian? Traius?
“Underground?” The bullman spoke. Neneria looked to the wolfman, his jaw curling into a terrible grin. Wolves should not be capable of smiling. He said only a single name.
“Iliyal.” Neneria blinked. Did he mean Iliyal Tremali? Impossible! Kassandora’s man? He was still alive? If she knew, she would gone to him immediately!
“Do you-“ Neneria quietly began and Fer cut her off.
“I agree.” Fer said. “Logar, you are correct. Today sister, I will fill you in on what has happened, we have a story to share regarding this.” She tapped the jar in Neneria’s lap. Oh, so she could be gentle now? Where was this gentleness when she was crushing Neneria’s bones? “You have to indulge me for one day, unfortunately.” From the tone, Neneria assumed her sister was trying to be sarcastic. There was no sarcasm about, it WAS unfortunate!
“And tomorrow?” Neneria asked quietly. Why did they have an audience? This was supposed to be private!
“Tomorrow, the Pack will march.”
The five captain’s eyes shifted to a deeper red. They began it, the audience close by joined in, then the campfires away from them, until every half-human let out a war-cry.
The valley howled.