Chapter Sixty-four

Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain stared at the goddess for a moment. The blonde woman glanced down at her hand grabbing her shoulder, then narrowed her eyes at her. But she didn’t say anything, so Krissintha didn’t let go — she was in no mood to fall flat on the floor, goddess or not.

I’m loving your new crutch. That’s god-tier equipment right theeeere. Kevin cheered.

Something was wrong with her familiar. Krissintha didn’t know what or how, but it must have been bad if Lady Wensah was here.

Just how stupid can you get, Stupid? The goddess unleashed her fury at Kevin, her words loud in Krissintha’s mind as well. Now listen to me you most brainless of all spirits! You pull this sort of thing again, and I will …

Yeah? You’ll get rid of me? Who you gonna caaaall, Venkman? Kevin rumbled happily.

It’s Wensah, you insufferable … the goddess retorted, her godly face scrunching up, but she couldn’t finish the sentence.

Oh, whatever. Just don’t cross the streams! It would be baaaad.

What? Lady Wensah demanded, her eyes narrowing to a slit.

‘The force is weak with this one. Kevin commented in the tone of a disappointed father in the process of giving up on his hopeless offspring.

What the hell is wrong with him? Asked Krissintha.

The idiot pushed against his internal portal, the one connecting his present manifestation to his actual body in the spirit world, and he damaged it. I fixed it, but some of the triple-refined Essence had already flown into the portal and caused minor damage to his soul, rendering him incapable of thinking rationally or controlling himself properly. She sputtered the explanation.

Krissintha thought about this for a moment — she didn’t understand most of it, but the loss of rational thought and control was …

So … he’s drunk. she stated.

Well, I suppose it’s an adequate comparison. Said the goddess.

Is he going to recover? Krissintha asked, worried.

The damage is small. He’ll sleep it off and his soul will recover. A day or two. But I swear, if he does this again …

Oh look, it’s a pug! Kevin shrieked.

A pug? The goddess and Krissintha asked at the same time.

Krissintha felt tempted to ask what the hell a “pug” was, but Kevin’s drunken rumblings continued.

Oh, Akela would cry if he saw this. Better get rid of the evidence of this evo-catio-nal … no, evolucri … this fucking dead-end.

Krissintha snapped her head to look at Captain Rimarle Alas and the small, ugly-ish dog in his arms. An expression of unspeakable horror settled on her face — one no-one could see thanks to her mask — as the critter stiffened, then went limp in its owner’s arm.

You put that soul right back this instant, you hear me! Krissintha thought-screamed at the spirit.

Awww, you’re no fun. Kevin grumbled. And … Bob’s your uncle.

Suddenly the little dog lifted its head again and barked once. Krissintha stared wide eyed at this. Even Lady Wensah looked surprised.

Neat. Didn’t know I could doooo thiiiis. Kevin laughed, sounding a lot happier with himself than he had any right to be.

Drunk Kevin was the worst.

Krissintha exhaled sharply and realized that during the long seconds she had spent talking to a god and a drunk spirit, the elves were getting anxious.

The orks, led by Orkuz Graal, were still sitting, watching the happenings, especially the goddess. It seemed they realized who — or what — the red dressed woman was.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Ferin was kneeling on the floor, clutching and pressing the tea-jar to her chest. She was crying now — this whole ordeal too much for her. Tomas was there, trying to console her.

The captains were staring at Lady Wensah in astonishment, the marines lining up behind them, weapons drawn, waiting for orders and looking utterly confused. Luckily, Captain Whatshisname hadn’t noticed his pet’s misadventure — he would probably have ordered an attack otherwise.

Krissintha knew she had to smooth this over — one wrong move from anyone here, and the poor, seafaring elves would quickly meet their ends either by a god, or a drunk spirit. She wasn’t sure which would be worse.

She straightened herself as much as she could, still leaning on Lady Wensah’s shoulder.

Kevin, take the mask off, please. She said to the spirit, hoping the simple task wouldn’t be too much for him in his current state.

The mask came off, but instead of vanishing like it usually did, it clattered on the floor. Ah, fine, it was just a mask. It was time to salvage this situation.

‘I am Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain,’ she announced. ‘I work for the … Misery Island Bureau of Spirit Affairs.’ She turned her head slightly to indicate the goddess, and said, ‘This is Lady Wensah, our patron god, who in her wisdom and grace has decided to personally oversee the task Fenirig Arte of Third Rangers contracted us to do.’

Well said, Krissintha, well said. Lady Wensah praised her. I wish I could have put your soul into that Tentacle Horror.

Krissintha shuddered, and a sudden urge to jump into the sea and swim to dry land made an assault on her.

Oi, that’s just ruuuude! I’m a perfectly serviceable Tricycle Horror. Kevin complained.

Be quiet! Krissintha hissed at him.

The two captains took a step back, looking at each other, probably some wordless communication as to how to deal with a god who had just appeared in their midst. The marines stood ready, but in the absence of orders, they didn’t do anything. Except one, who came forward to collect the now empty tea cups from the captains.

Are you … mad at me? You’re mad at me, aren’t you? Kevin asked, sounding like he was about to cry all of a sudden.

Krissintha was in no mood to show mercy.

I am mad at you.

Pleeeeaase don’t be mad. I’ll make you pancakes. Kevin begged, wailing.

Fine. If you stay quiet and make me … pancakes, I won’t be.

She hoped “pancakes” weren’t some soul-damaging spirit-fuckery that would lead to her downfall.

Okay. Kevin sniffled.

The captains seemed to have come to a conclusion.

‘I am Fenirig Arla, captain of the Furious Fist,’ the woman introduced herself, bowing her head to the goddess. ‘While we are … honoured, I’m sure our struggle against the barbarian marauders wouldn’t warrant the presence of one such as yourself.’

Krissintha almost nodded in approval — it was a nice, politely veiled way to ask a god what the hell she was doing here. She glanced at Lady Wensah, curious how she would respond. But instead of saying anything, the goddess looked around the deck of the Graal’s Enormous Pride for the first time — the orks, the dead crew members, the marines, and finally Krissintha. But the goddess didn’t say anything, because … she didn’t know what to say, Krissintha realized — god or not, she had no idea what was going on here. Krissintha sighed internally. Must she do everything herself?

She turned to the captains.

‘We, the Bureau, uncovered the involvement of a god in this attack on Solace,’ she began the explanation. ‘The barbarian spiritualists turned out to be servants of Sivera. The same Sivera who sends spiritualists every time an evil spirit appears, then demands to be allowed to set up a shrine in return for her so called help. We suspect she might even be behind the evil spirits in the first place, creating the excuse to send her people here. As such, Lady Wensah felt it might be wise to personally investigate.’

What? Sivera? With these disgusting creatures? Are you sure? Lady Wensah immediately assaulted her with questions.

The goddess had no idea, had she?

Kevin heard their familiars mention Sivera. Replied Krissintha.

Yeeees, the other bitch! Kevin interrupted, and was ignored.

Oh. That’s not good. None of us are supposed to be providing familiars to those idiots. The goddess moaned glancing at the orks. And the evil spirits? Are you sure it’s Sivera’s doing?

No, probably not. But this is Solace and we need to give them a better reason for you being here than the drunk evil spirit on my shoulder. Krissintha explained. Presenting a common enemy usually works, my father used to do it all the time. Takes the focus off us. Sivera is that common enemy now, so we’ll blame everything on her.

Right, let’s go with that. The goddess agreed. You’re good at this.

Rimarle Alas turned to Fenirig Arla and said,

‘The human is wearing Third Rangers’ gear, isn’t she? I can see your father’s hand in this.’

‘Yes.’ the woman sighed. ‘I can see it too.’

A-ha! Fenar’s daughter is also … Fenar. Coinkydinks? I think not! Kevin yelled excitedly.

Oh, so that’s why she looks so familiar. Lady Wensah commented.

Krissintha wanted to say something — she hadn’t been expecting the goddess to know Fenirig Arte — but there were more important issues to settle first.

‘Several teams from Fifth Rangers are waiting for us on shore,’ she said to the captains.

‘And?’ Fenirig Arla asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

‘They will confirm everything I’ve said. We need to get the rescued people back to land as well as hand over our prisoners to the rangers,’ Krissintha explained, gesturing at the orks behind her. But there was another reason why the captain might want help them get off the damn galley. ‘Also, a trainee named Hiraken Sala is with the rangers. I believe you might know her, captain.’

‘My niece?’ the woman asked, surprised.

Krissintha nodded.

‘Prepare the barges!’ Fenirig Arla bellowed without hesitation, much louder than Krissintha had ever heard an elf shout. Marines and crew members began the preparations immediately, and seeing how this was happening, Rimarle Alas gave the same order to his crew.

Krissintha had had enough of this horrid adventure on the Graal’s Enormous Pride. She couldn’t wait to have dry land under her feet, pass the responsibility of handling everything to the rangers, then collapse onto a bed — or at least some soft grass — and sleep for a day. Or two.

I … feel … sleepy. Kevin said, then he did something that sounded like yawning.