Saturday, July 25, 2026

Destiny's Queen 24

 

Chapter 24

 

“Daze! I can feel my power building up properly this month. We have had too many setbacks, we need to do something positive.”

“And what had you thought of, m’dear? Note, I will follow you if it’s reasonable, but with you blaming me for your failures, I’m chary.”

“Your failures, you mean; you and your cunning plans. But I intend, on the night of the solstice, when the sun is weakest, and when I will also coincidentally be at full power, to kill Rogaz and absorb the blue moon to me.”

“Ambitious,” said Daze.

“Well, are you with me, or not?” snapped Selen.

“Oh, I’m with you, my dear,” said Daze.  “I lost some of my enlightened recently, though, and it hurt to lose them, as well as losing the power from their... worship.” Daze did not share the ways he had of gaining power from those he had in thrall.

“And I’ve lost my own priests and priestesses to rebels. Thanus has lost control of my soldiery and they are all misbehaving, and it’s all wrong.”

“One day, my dear, we will have Alethos at our mercy,” said Daze. “And his wife, whoever she is. She has a trógling slave, I think.”

“At least I can be certain by the timing it is not my former Heroine,” said Selen. “I think it may be the one-time celestial virgin.”

“Oooh, she would be fun to break,” murmured Daze.

Selen glared at him.

But she knew he had proclivities which went too far for her tastes, and it was better that he have them satisfied with others.

 

oOoOo

 

“The Red Moon knows something is up, I’m sure of it,” said Kaz. “She’s busy preparing for something, I can feel it in my bones.”

“I’ll warn Rogaz,” said Hraazaz. “We’ll be waiting for you to handle Daze, and join us.”

“I’ll be there,” said Kaz.

“I know,” said Hraazaz.

“Selen is the more powerful of the two, and if need be, you may have to keep her occupied,” said Kaz. “You know what you are doing?”

“Latrika and I are putting Rogaz into a crystal sphere such as she uses for raising darklings to be high toróg,” said Hraazaz, patiently. “I’ve had it done myself, and did the modified form with Alcmene. Whilst we fight Selen we trickle off Selen’s power into Rogaz in her sphere, and completely destroy the red moon to add to the blue moon. And you will prevent Daze from interfering and twisting the form of the egg.”

“We can do it,” said Kaz.

The women involved, for it was a women’s task, embraced warmly. Kaz gulped; and took herself to Daze’s mound to begin her quest.

 

oOoOo

 

“Are you ready, Daze? Soon it will be moonrise, and we can finish off the blue moon once and for all. I’ll need you to confuse her as I tear her apart, as we are without much of Thanus.”

“I still think you should just have made him into a bound spirit..”

“He can regenerate a body, eventually,” said Selen. “It may not be as good or as strong as before but it will do.”

 

oOoOo

 

Hraazaz drew out the moon runes and started chanting in the rolling, ritual tongue of the High Toróg, after clothing her goddess in wreaths of the white star flower, one wreath made by trógling female children, one by darkling female children, and one by the six sub-adult high toróg young females whom Rogaz had found and ordered to aid the endeavour. Mycota drew on her husband’s powers with rock to aid Hraazaz, and the rest sang and danced to Hraazaz’s command. This pinched the lunarsphere to make a narrow bridge to the red moon across which to draw power.

“I hope Kaz is doing well,” muttered Rynn.

“Kaz will do fine,” said Lelyn.

 

oOoOo

 

Kaz stood on the hill where she had stood before, looking at the unwelcoming entrance between the vicious hedges.

“Nobody tending them,” Kaz muttered. “Nobody tending the hedges, nobody weeding between the flagstones, nobody cleaning off chalk-marks; because chalkmarks didn’t remain long anyway. Because nothing I do will alter the maze because it’s not real.  It’s all an illusion. Now I just have to find the thread of magic and unravel it.”

The image of the maze shimmered slightly, and she could almost see through it.

Kaz searched for the shape of the magical construction, to see where a thread might be found, to unravel its form.

“He didn’t!” she muttered to herself, in disbelief. “He did, too! Alethos, love! One end is at the start of the maze! Still, it must be one of his earliest constructs, and perhaps less sophisticated... I can reel it up into a ball of pure magic as I move forward.”

“Steady, love, don’t suppose there are no traps in it.”

“No, I won’t assume. You’re right.  If I couch my findings as a prayer, though, I can let you know what I am doing in case Rynn has to take over.”

“Understood. I love you.”

“I love you. I am winding it up now. It feels harsh to touch but not jagged.”

 

oOoOo

 

Daze shifted, uncomfortably. He could feel something which felt like an itch deep inside his head.

“Daze! Pay attention!” snapped Selen. “What is your part?”

“Confuse and bemuse Rogaz,” said Daze, obediently.

“And had you thought how to do that?” demanded Selen.

“Eh? Oh, place her thoughts into a confused fugue state, and form a bridge between pleasure and pain, so she dies in sexual rapture as you rip her apart.”

“That’s what you did to make people go willingly to bloodsuckers,” said Selen.

“Aima was my daughter too,” said Daze. “Hey! What’s going on?” he screamed a long, agonised scream, and fell back on the cushions beside his sister, a look of horror on his face.

“Daze! Stop it! This is not the time for joking!” cried Selen, slapping him. Daze whimpered.

 

oOoOo

 

“A sharp wrench should bring the lot down,” said Kaz. “I wonder if any of his creature are tied in it, if you will need to go and collect them,” she added.

“Hush, do not worry, I wait on the place of souls,” said Alethos.

“One good yank.... yes! Yes, it all falls apart!”  Kaz felt, rather than heard, the primal scream of Daze, as she unravelled a spell thousands of years old.

“That had to smart,” murmured Alethos.

 

Kaz found herself on a featureless domed hill, save for what appeared to be some separate slabs at the top. Kaz was not fond of windwalking, but Thyella had shown her how; and she examined the slabs from above. There were eight of them, but arranged three by three, with one missing.

“I think I have to move them around until the pattern is correct; I suppose then the space will be... I don’t know, over a way in?” said Kaz.

Be careful,” said Alethos. “There may be a right way to do this, can you see what the pattern is? I think I can through your eyes.”

“It looks like the red moon glyph and the chaos glyph,” said Kaz. “I suspect I need to get the puzzle moved so that the last move completes both, in the central square, and anything else... I don’t know, but I don’t like the thought of what might happen.”

Alethos left her to ponder, reflecting that on the whole, gods did not like puzzles, and were no good at them. Perhaps the reasons prophecies made them nervous, being often couched in riddling language.  The whole nature of Daze frightened deities, even without his insalubrious pastimes. If Kaz could make puzzling more wholesome, it would lead to mortals not being afraid to ask difficult questions, and solving problems for themselves, not merely asking the gods. One day, mortals might no longer need them. But that was a long way in the future, and not worth worrying the others over.

 

Kaz hardened her nails and dug out eight pieces of rock on a smaller scale, scratching the designs into them, and spent some time pushing them around to see if she could find the way in which to avoid completing one glyph but not the other; and finally she grunted in satisfaction, and went to move the full-size stones, quickly and surely.

And with a startled cry, she was sucked into a roiling mass of imagery.

 

oOoOo

 

Selen was beyond irritated. Just when she needed her brother to back her up, he decided to have some kind of fit, or existential crisis, or something equally unhelpful.

“Get yourself together, Daze!” she shrieked at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“My hill! Someone destroyed all my pretty maze!” said Daze. “They took away my maze and my haze, and all that was crazed, right under my gaze, I am ablaze!”

Selen shook him.

“Never mind your stupid rhymes! Snap out of it and help me! Rogaz has some idea that she should expect an attack, she has altered the moonway to make a narrow bridge!”

“Maybe attacking her is a bad idea,” said Daze, who had a headache.

“No, it isn’t! Now do your part!” demanded Selen.

She started off across the bridge, and Daze took the opportunity to escape to see what was happening inside his own domain within the hill, which was also partly within his own brain.

 

oOoOo

 

“Looks like the red bitch is on to us,” said Rynn, pointing at the bridge.

“I wonder...” said Thyella. “It looks to me as if she is attacking; she has the spirit of Thanus as well as Klerus, Librax, and Hippona.”

“Hippona is a warrior,” said Hraazaz. “If I am to be the new goddess of toróg merchants, then Klerus is mine.”

“I’ll finish Thanus,” said Sjurgi.

“I’ll handle Hippona,” said Thyella. “She mocks my late brother as Skyhorse in giving her skills to the red one.”

“Leaves me with Librax,” said Rynn.

“He’s mine,” snarled Errilaz. “Mine for the many subtle jibes about primitive toróg, beast-breasted, horse-faced, and so on. Kaz should be here to face Selen, however, with you as her aide!”

“Then, I guess if Kaz isn’t going to make it, I’ll keep Selen occupied whilst you ladies kill your targets as it has to be a trógling,” said Rynn. I hope I survive to get back to Phaedros; if not, at least I will be safe with Alethos, she thought.

 

oOoOo

 

Kaz was trying to make sense of the uncoordinated mess that was Daze’s mindscape, the maze within wavering after the removal of the maze without. Here was the centre of his being, and a glyph she did not know, which shimmered and changed; his own glyph of illusion, she thought. Was this the magical mirror to be destroyed? No, it was but a glyph; the mirror was not here. But there would be illusions.

And then, he was there. Daze himself, wearing his guise of a handsome man. He gazed on Kaz in disgust.

“A trógling,” he sneered. “So, your mistress dispelled the illusion and made you move the pieces tp be the one sucked in. Clever of her, but she got too clever; I can only be harmed from within, and now I know to keep her out. I have won! I have defeated the so-called Daykaz! She has no chance now, because the time has come and gone, but you, I will make you suffer forever, and let her know what she has subjected you to.”

“You’re so sure, aren’t you, you nasty little man?” said Kaz.

“I misread something,” said Daze, airily. “I thought that Death’s daughter would be the Daykaz, but looking again, it could be Death’s beloved, and you must be her servant.”

“I admit, it’s been to our advantage that you are so stupid,” said Kaz.

“Stupid? You, a dirty, stupid little trógling dare call me stupid?”

“Well, as you haven’t got much correct so far, what else am I to call you?” said Kaz. All the time she kept him talking, she was making sense of the patterns in this apparently chaotic mess. “I could say you were inane, asinine, puerile, idiotic, foolish, and as thick as slurry.”

“How dare you!” Daze screeched. “You’re the stupid one! You’re a trógling! You’re nothing! Nothing! A parasite!”

Kaz laughed.

“Rattled, are you?” said Kaz. “This is the second time we have met, Daze, and I won that time, too.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Last time we met, you used me as a model to make trógling, and cursed me that I would live forever and desire Death,” said Kaz.

“Well, I hope you do long for death, because I will keep you alive for eternity, suffering!” cried Daze. “And I will let your mistress know!”

“You are a fool,” said Kaz, laughing. “My only mistress is Moraia, Fate; mother to my beloved Alethos. Your curse is my blessing.”

Daze stared, his mouth hanging open foolishly.

You are Death’s beloved?” he asked, incredulously. “A trógling?”

“And mother of the trógling,” said Kaz, and suddenly, her voice was hard and sharp. “And I have come for those poor souls you have stolen and preyed on for so long. If you give them all up freely, I will let you live.”

She did not expect him to do so; so she was not disappointed when he attacked her.  His attack took the form of a hideous monster with tentacles, ready to rend her limb from limb; and Kaz looked at the truth which was but an addition to Daze’s form, and laughed until it disappeared.

As this place was Daze’s construct, and appeared physical, albeit distorted, Kaz attacked back, with her swords, having been working hard on using one in each hand, which seemed to confuse Daze.

“No, you cannot use iron!  I made trógling to be little, and weak, and pathetic!”

“But to survive, we have to have a will of adamant,” said Kaz. “I have been tested in fire, and I am forged and tempered to be Fate’s weapon against you and against your sister. I understand your riddles and your illusions and how you use them to build a world about yourself which is hollow and insubstantial.” She brushed aside a roaring, fire-breathing monster which he threw at her, ignoring what she knew to be unreal, even as she ignored the long claws Daze grew to attack her. It was a little more effort to walk through the thorny tentrils which grew around her legs, having once cut her feet on what she now knew as illusory hedges, but she pushed those aside with her mind as well, advancing on him.

Daze fled. His illusion of physical beauty fell apart, revealing him with his grotesque, fish-belly white skin, with a scarlet gash of a mouth, and a liver-coloured mark over his forehead, eyelid and onto the cheek on one side. Kaz suddenly realised that he had once been as beautiful as he could appear, but the depravity of his nature had manifested through his skin, pallid for his fear of the sun, his body soft from his innate laziness; his mouth marred by aiding Aima suck blood, and the mask over one eye a warning of his double nature. And worst of all, the face settled in lines of cruelty.

Kaz pursued him relentlessly, absently assembling his chaotic surroundings into logical structures, a solid pathway; and seized one of his illusion glyphs to shape his own unreality into a construct facing him. She did not make a monster or anything hideous and imaginary; what she imagined into being was Alethos, grim and stern, with his sword upheld.

And Daze believed in it.

He fell under the sword which existed only in his own imagination.

And then it was a matter of finishing him, and ripping apart the shifting, confusing place to discover it was no more than a pocket universe in a vast, spherical space; the inside of the hill, where thousands of trógling and a few humans were chained in eternal torment, under a throne on a dais with a mirror over it. Spirits attacked her.

“This ends now,” growled Kaz, throwing her vial at the mirror. The glass vial shattered, and the acid steamed as it burned into the polished bronze of the mirror. The devices of torture dissolved with the mirror’s surface. The spirits wavered, and fled

“Alethos! I make this thy temple by right of conquest!” cried Kaz. “Come to me, and receive these battered souls into gentle death, within the halls thou hast prepared for my people!”

Alethos appeared.

“I will lead them; things started a little early in the lunarsphere,” he said. “Rynn is facing off against Selen.”

“Oh, crap,” said Kaz.

 

Friday, July 24, 2026

Destiny's Queen 23

 

Chapter 23

 

Hraazaz duly went into labour on the first day of Winterscome, in the dark of the Red Moon, and in the rays of the Blue Moon. Alethos and Tor turned up.

“Had to bring him, did you?” said Kaz, to her husband.

“Fatherhood supportive role,” said Alethos, gravely.

“I am not a coward,” said Tor.

“No, and you can bravely stroke her hair, hold her hands, and let her swear at you,” said Kaz.

“Damn, you’re offensive,” said Tor, doing as he was bid.

“I love her that way,” said Alethos.

“She’s always been like that,” said Hraazaz. “I like her that way, too.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like her that way,” said Tor. “Just mentioning it.”

The baby was born with a minimum of fuss.

“This is what was normal before the Red Moon,” said Hraazaz, feeding her son. “I’m calling him Kazor, to honour the first person who was my friend without wanting anything.”

 

oOoOo

 

“I hoped I’d be more blasé for this one,” said Kaz, to Alethos.

“I don’t think it’s possible to be blasé about being Fate’s pawn, my love,” said Alethos. “I am sure you will make a great job of it, but I also know that doesn’t help you right now.”

“At least this time we are in the same time, and you know who I am,” said Kaz. “It was extremely scary not having your presence more or less constantly with me.”

“And you completed that very well,” said Alethos. “No reason to think you won’t... no, that isn’t comforting, is it?”

“Last time I was risking my life and soul,” said Kaz, soberly. “And this time, the captive trógling of all time depend on me to rescue them. I learned a lot, unravelling the Trickster’s magic; he delights in the suffering of others, and derives sustenance from it. This I could almost taste.”

“Well, then, you will succeed because others depend on you,” said Alethos. “Because you always complete your duty.”

Kaz sighed.

“I always do my best.”

“Your best is spectacular.  Remember, he still doesn’t really know how capable you are; he still has this preconceived idea about trógling.”

“It’s an advantage,” agreed Kaz. “I need to be distracted.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Alethos.

“Your best is very agreeable,” purred Kaz.

 

oOoOo

 

Skulos had actually proven very co-operative.

“I don’t want to kill people,” he said to Pythas. “I hate blood and I hate killing. You probably despise me for that as a Glyph lord of a death god.”

“On the contrary, if that’s how you feel, I honour your honesty and bravery in confessing it. I suppose there’s an obvious question; why are you an assassin and boasting of being the best?”

“Because of Him,” said Skulos.  “Because though part of me has been revelling in being the best, part of me was dying inside. Because as I make a kill, that part of me inside wakes up and I want to vomit, and that makes him laugh, and... and I think it gives him power. I know another assassin, named Hallia, who was abused by her stepfather and raped over and over from the age of eight; and when she became Enlightened, He turned her into a killer who seduces men to find out about her mark and to get close to the one who is to be killed, and I wouldn’t mind betting that her awareness is of what has been done to her body. He trained her himself,” he added.

“I’ll pass this on to have her brought here, and unriddled,” said Pythas.

“She’ll probably kill herself,” said Skulos.

“That’s her choice, and it can be made easy if she wants to; but I’ll want her to worship another god, almost any other god, so she has protection.”

“I’m fine with Alethos; everyone dies, and I owe him something for making too much work for him,” shrugged Skulos.  “I don’t much care if I live or die, now, at least I’m free, and I don’t have to kill anyone any more.”

“Feel up to being a spy?” asked Pythas.

“I can do that,” said Skulos.

 

Pythas had Myopsos brought to him from the work coffle.

“So, what is it that the Trickster made you do that you hate?”

Myopsos collapsed into sobs.

“I hate arguments and raised voices,” he said. “And I hate crowds and talking to people. And... and I hate having to be chained to nineteen other people who hate me and shout at me.”

“Now you got that off your chest, I’ll arrange for you to be my orderly for the rest of your sentence,” said Pythas. “I shout on the parade ground, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

Myopsos knelt and kissed his feet.

 

oOoOo

 

Sjurgi brought in Hallia. She was a spy as well as an assassin, and there was information on her gleaned from Clodax Dren.

Kaz travelled in to question the woman, who was beautiful, a figure full enough to please most men, but with underlying muscle.

Kaz felt sick. What she was about to do would destroy the ego of the woman in front of her, as it had done for Skulos and Myopsos; but there was worse damage for this one to feel.  But it had to be done.  And this one had been... trained... by Daze, personally.

“What riddle brought you enlightenment?” asked Kaz.

“If memory brings pain, what displaces it?” said Hallia. The question seemed to prompt those riddled by Daze.

“And your answer?”

“Forgetfulness,” said Hallia.

“It doesn’t, does it?” said Kaz. “Every time the memories come back sharper than before. When memory brings pain, examining the pain and replacing it with new experience displaces it.”

Hallia stared, as Kaz was also quietly disassembling the bonds of the riddle. Then she started screaming and reached with her nails to scratch at her face and bosom.

Kaz caught her hands, and bore them down.

“Talk to me about it and get the pain into the open, like lancing a boil or a whitlow,” she said, using her charisma. “Let it all out. Scream, cry all you want, but bring up that poison and let us flush it away. I am here. Sjurgi is here. We hear your pain, we live it with you, and if, when all that festers is out in the open, you still want to mutilate yourself, or kill yourself, that is your business. So long as you pray to any other god but the Trickster, or he will take your soul and do it all over again.”

It took many hours for Hallia to sob out her story; about her stepfather’s ‘little games,’ and their ‘special little secret.’ About how her mother would not believe her when she sobbed out what had happened, and whipped her for lying. And how she had run away, and met a riddler, who brought her to what she fondly believed was a way of believing, and how Daze himself had appeared to her, and told her that she must confront her fears to overcome them. He had place a spell on her so that she could not tell the difference between pleasure and pain, enhancing both, and tortured her whilst he violated her, and made her beg for more.

“Crap!” said Kaz. “Alethos! I need help here; I don’t know how to untinker a spell like that.”

“Nor do I,” said Alethos, turning up. “What a sick bastard the Trickster is!  I’ll go see if I can find anyone who can help; maybe Latrika and Phrodine together.”

“What about Zeandine? She doesn’t like us much but she is a carnal goddess...” said Kaz. Alethos snorted.

“She wouldn’t know what to do with a brain if she had one herself,” he said.

“Miaow,” said Kaz. “But, alas, accurate,”

 

Latrika and Phrodine turned up.

“You’ll have to do it, Daykaz,” said Latrika. “You’re the only one who understands how to undo the spells of that sick, crazy god. You need to quest into Hallia’s own mind and find where he has set up a maze with a short cut across from the part that feels pain to the part that feels pleasure.”

Kaz gulped.

“Must I?” she asked.

“Kaz,” said Alethos, “I sense that this will help you free the trógling; I think when you fight him, you will be unravelling the maze of his own mind where he stores them.”

The chime reiterated this, and Kaz sighed.

“Take her if I fail and kill her; she is half swooning and does not know to abjure him and embrace you as a god,” said Kaz.

“I abjure Daze!” said Hallia, firmly. “I give my worship to the Daykaz, whom he fears.”

Latrika fed both a potion to help relax them; it was not like entering the spirit plane to battle spirits, nor the god plane for worship, but akin. And Kaz let her spirit slip out of her body, tethered securely as it was, and plunge into the seething, roiling consciousness which was Hallia, disjointed images of the woman’s childhood terror and pain, the torture of reliving that every time she slept with someone in doing her job, and the pleasure beyond pleasure allied with exquisite torture of Daze’s training. Kaz came to know that the god of trickery chose mortals to subject to this, those damaged enough to have triggers he could use, words and phrases to reduce them to abject, terrified obedience. These he could treat as he did not dare treat his sister. These he savoured to sate lusts even Selen did not know about. And he drained power from them even as they did not know whether to scream in agony or seek release in pleasure.

Kaz found the bridge; and slowly, slowly she dismantled it. If she went too fast she might destroy the ability of Hallia to feel either pain or pleasure; and whilst it was dangerous to be unable to feel pain, it was wrong to deprive her of pleasure, which covered more than sexual pleasure.

At long last it was done, the goddesses tending the whimpering Hallia.  Kaz’s spirit returned to her body as if shot from a bow, and she half woke before toppling sideways in a swoon. She did not hear the triumphant chime.

“Sleep, Hallia, without dreams,” said Latrika. “Spend a week with Sjurgi, learning what she has been through, and help her help others. And then, and only then, you shall decide whether you want to take the path to onward to death, and in that, you will receive help. If you want to live, and fight Daze and his works, you will receive aid in that, too.”

 

oOoOo

 

Kaz awoke in bed with Alethos.

She clung to him and sobbed.

“I will have to do that over and over,” she gasped in horror. “Those he has damaged whom he has.”

“And every time you do so, you will learn more about him, to dismantle the construct he has made to imprison people,” said Alethos. “And you will remember this woman, and those others, when the cowardly little bastard begs for your mercy.”

There was a sudden chime.

“That,” said Kaz, waspishly, “Was altogether too chirpy a sound to endear me to your mother.”

“You’ll forgive her,” said Alethos.

“Yes, I know, but not yet,” said Kaz.

“Skulos told Pythas that he does not think that there are many riddlers out there at any one time,” said Alethos. “We may have those bound closest to Daze.”

“If not, I should think the riddling will fall apart naturally when he is dead, and if we put it about that help is available to rebuild lives, I think we should have the rest,” said Kaz. “He’s the pettiest, meanest creature I have ever known, and I’ve known a few mean greater toróg, and inadequate darklings who like to pass on their own misery.”

“Yes; he’s imaginative with it,” said Alethos, grimly. “I don’t think I have ever come across anyone I find so utterly loathsome. Even during the hottest days of my struggle with Tor, even despising him for using undead – which I admit to misunderstanding, though I still don’t like it – I never despised him or loathed him with the same visceral revulsion I feel for the Trickster.”

 “I’m not alone in that, then,” said Kaz.

Alethos made a sound of disgust.

“Gods don’t usually vomit, but he brought me close,” he said. “The whole idea of making that poor woman go through what she fears over and over is bad enough; confusing her with what is pleasure and what is pain is just adding iniquity to the already appalling. I want to go and rip him apart, but I know I cannot do so, or all fails.  But you, my right hand, you can do it for me.”

“I will,” said Kaz, soberly. “And I will be pitiless.”

 

oOoOo

 

Erytheon touched his wife’s gong as she went to sound it, muffling it.

“No, dear,” he said. “Leave her be this once.”

Moraia pouted.

“It’s my job...”

“To encourage. Not to irritate.”

“Well, in that case, you had better distract me.”

“Of course, divine one,” said Erytheon.

 

Thursday, July 23, 2026

Destiny's Queen 22

 spoke too soon yesterday. Mosquito bites, fever. Noncoherent day 

Chapter 22

 

Daze winced as one of his illusions was broken through by someone, and dissipated; it always stung when an illusion was broken. And then the whole construct has been broken apart; and he yelped in real pain. Still, the illusory beasts had drawn them off to the battlements, there would be no guards on his quarry. He hurried into the halls of healing, looking nondescript, and looked into the minds of those on their daily business to find the room of the toróg woman. Quickly, he went there.

She was awake. That made it harder.

“Looking for someone?” he heard the voice rumbling, and turned as he entered the room.

The hulking figure of Tor loomed, menacingly. His grin was feral.

Daze gave a falsetto squeal, and fled, leaping for the safety of the moonsphere as soon as he was outside.

Selen’s approval was not worth facing Tor. Or explaining that he was only there to kill the toróg god’s daughter.

Daze would have been amazed had he seen Tor, earlier, with Alcmene sitting on his lap, showing how well she was learning the toróg language by singing nursery rhymes to him.  Hraazaz had asked him to keep an eye on her adoptive daughter as he was used to rearing girls. Somebody had apparently told her that Tor was as butter in the hands of little girls because he was afraid of hurting them.

It might be said that when Kaz found out, she introduced him to Iphianira.

It would be hard for gods to feud when a small girl called one of them ‘daddy’ and the other ‘uncle.’ Kaz had no idea that one of the prophecies about her called her ‘the warlord peacemaker.’

 

oOoOo

 

“You didn’t do it, did you?” snapped Selen.

“Someone ripped up my illusions, and Tor was there!” said Daze. “He had come to drag Errilaz back into captivity,” he added, making things up as he went along. “Give it a little time and she’ll be begging to come back to you, and, moreover, it disrupts the plans of Alethos. How can Errilaz aid the Daykaz, who is part of the Alethosi pantheon, if Errilaz is with Tor? The day Tor and Alethos have a civil conversation, volcanic magma will freeze.”

“Oh, good point,” purred Selen. “And it’s no doing of yours, just blind luck. So don’t look smug.”

“No, my dear, I was just pleased at the way it worked out.”

“Now I have time to heal, and recoup my power, it’s not easy with the loss of worshippers in Selenopolis; and they have renamed it, can you believe that? They are calling it Ombrosopolis after that bastard storm god!”

“Don’t let yourself get upset,” soothed Daze. “We can re-take it in our own good time.”

Daze was unaware that the growing army of rebels was taking nearby Selenite towns and cities quickly, before the troops pulled out of them by Selen’s magic could make their footsore and weary ways back home. Those that survived starvation and disease.

oOoOo

 

 “Check,” said Alethos. “Actually, I think it’s checkmate.”

“You crafty bastard,” said Tor. “You are damned sneaky for a god of truth.”

“I made every move openly,” said Alethos.

“Huh! I could learn from that,” said Tor.

“Good; those of us who can learn and adapt will survive into the new age,” said Alethos. “I am glad we have a new understanding.”

“Blame your wife,” grunted Tor. “Same time next week?”

“Looking forward to it.”

“It was a good game. There aren’t any people who will give me a game; the sunlings won’t have anything to do with a darkness god, and half the rest assume that if I start losing, I’ll go full berserker and smash up the pieces and the board.”

“You do have a berserker glyph-spell.

“Certainly; a berserk high toróg is an army in himself. My people don’t mind if they die because they come to feast in my halls, and I only attract those who genuinely don’t care. You attract some of the idiots who just want the training.”

Alethos shrugged.

“Sadly, yes; on the other hand, I also take the default souls that have nobody, and until Kaz took over, I took what trógling I could, rather than their nominal creator. He always wears the form of a short, and smiling darkling, and some fear him less.”

Tor growled.

“I’ve been taking more notice of trógling. I had one who made glyph lord, and even a berserk trógling is good for taking out half a dozen.”

“I prefer mine with enough thoughts intact to do inventive things with cantrips.”

“You can’t do anything with cantrips.”

“No? Kaz folded a bloodsucker in his own cloak once, giving Harkon the chance to deal with him. She wrung a temple spirit, and turned a rather soapy Nekrost into pure soap. It was hilarious. Overpowered cantrips can be handy.”

“Well, I never! I must remember that.”

 

oOoOo

 

“Kaz, I think I’m pregnant,” said Hraazaz, blushing deep purple. “Will you midwife for me, when I’m due?”

“Of course,” said Kaz. “Uh, now might be a good time to ask something I’ve often wondered... when high toróg are pregnant, do you have the extra....” she waved her hands graphically, “For a reason?”

“It’s cultural,” said Hraazaz. “Usually we have twins, but because females are the dominant sex and do most of the hunting and defending, one female is designated the carer for all the babies in a family, and must be able to feed them. Single children are not uncommon, especially nowadays, but the father is, er...”

“You’ve been getting on very well with Tor,” said Kaz.  “May I scan?”

“Yes, please do; it’s hard to do to oneself.”

“Looks like just one, to me; a boy,” said Kaz. “Just about developed enough for me to see. I doubt you’ll have a full year’s gestation.”

“Er, no, probably not,” said Hraazaz. “Really? He... he said he’d never had a son... I think he would like one... I should like to please him.”

“Alcmene will like having a baby brother,” said Kaz. “Well, go and tell him!”

“Er, yes,” said Hraazaz. “If he wants to celebrate, will you take care of Alcmene until I get back?”

“Of course,” said Kaz.  “I’m kicking my heels a bit whilst Their Trickinesses lick their wounds, whine about how unfair the world is, and build up their power for us to tackle.”

“It’s all right to be scared,” said Hraazaz. “I am, too.”

Kaz embraced her.

 

Harvest was almost over; Errilaz was up and about, disclosing all she knew about Selen’s domain, and the leaves on the trees started to turn colour. Kaz liked to see the new colours come, no two the same. Her ability to see colour was less full than humans, but was considerably more than toróg. She liked to look out over the battlements and see what was left of the woods after the Selenites had cut so much down. It would take years to replace.

Kaz was glad for Hraazaz, and hoped that her friend was happy; Tor certainly seemed more... mellow. Hopefully a godling might be born and Hraazaz recovered before they must confront Selen. Hraazaz was eating more or less constantly, and Latrika herself was monitoring her health. Kaz was glad. Lelyn was very close to her time, and so was Thyella, whose theory was that her son would be born in the first equinoctial storm.

Well, the women of Kaz’s group rallied round each other.

“Kaz?” Lelyn had joined her.

“You managed all those stairs?” said Kaz.

“I remember you saying, ‘I’m pregnant, not sick,’ so you can’t talk,” said Lelyn. “I wanted some air. I’ve been having a few contractions but not close enough for it to be imminent.”

“Well, if you give birth up here, I guess it will be a womb with a view,” said Kaz. Lelyn poked her.

“I’m not sure if I’m glad to be having an ordinary pregnancy, not a divine one; it’s dragging on, but then, I’m not having to eat constantly just to survive the hurried rate of a divine pregnancy.”

“Thyella reckons that ambrosia helps,” said Kaz. “It’s moderately disgusting, but whether that’s because  was mortal when I tried some, or because it tastes different to toróg I don’t know.”

“Or a bit of both,” said Lelyn. “Give me a hand to get down, I feel a bit odd... oh!” she changed colour. “My waters just broke.”

Kaz picked her taller friend up and shadow walked to the temple hospital, and called for Lelyn’s mother.

Protasion turned up as well, and held Lelyn’s hand, and deftly shoved his sword belt between her teeth when she tried to bite his hand and hers.

 

Some hours later, and a lot of military language, which nobody heeded,  Lelyn and Protasion’s son was born, red in the face and yelling in protest.  Once the afterbirth was delivered – Protasion laid down the law for once and demanded that Lelyn give one more push -  their son washed and wrapped, and Lelyn, exhausted but elated, was able to feed him.

“Had you thought of a name?” asked Kaz.

“We thought we’d honour his maternal grandfather, without using Pythas’s name and call him Pythion,” said Protasion.

“Hail, Pythion,” said Kaz.

Alethos turned up.

“Hail, Pythion,” he said. He placed the hilt of his own sword into the infant’s hand, and watched the tiny hand curl around it.

“We are honoured,” said Protasion.

“No, little brother, we are family,” said Alethos.

 

oOoOo

 

Thyella was right about the birth of her child.

The first equinoctial gale of the year slammed into the city like a battering ram, shaking every building before the complexity of the streets broke up the blast, and Thyella yelped.

“Harkon! He should be born out in the storm!” she cried.

“Well, crap,” said Harkon.  He had become accustomed now to hardening air to stand on, and took his wife up into the middle of a whirling circular wind system to deliver their son. He came into the world yelling, and promptly set up a breeze about himself.

“Kataigos,” said Harkon. “Right; let’s get back inside so Chionea can hold her brother.”

Alethos met them, again placing his sword in Kataigos’s hand.

Harkon embraced him.

Mother and son were fed ambrosia to help strengthen them, and went to bed.

“How was it?” asked Alethos.

“No tetchier than usual,” said Harkon. “I think the hail made her will the birth to go faster.”

“It’s an interesting way of doing it,” said Alethos.

“Wet the baby’s head?” suggested Harkon, getting out wine.

“Why not,” said Alethos. Harkon had adapted perhaps best of Kaz’s close associates and adoptive family to thinking of him as a brother, and Alethos liked it.

 

oOoOo

 

“I do not like ambrosia,” said Hraazaz.

“No, nor does Kaz,” said Thyella. “But we don’t want you fading away for the want of the divine sustenance.”

“What’s wrong with truecheese?” said Tor.

“Isn’t it legendary?” asked Hraazaz.

“What’s truecheese?” asked Thyella.

Tor rolled his eyes.

“It’s also called ‘mooncheese,’” he said. “It’s the toróg version of ambrosia; moonlight has to touch the first nectar of the silver star plant, to make truecheese.”

“The silver star has healing properties, Kaz says,” said Thyella.

“I heard she used it to cure Alethos,” said Tor. “I... think I am glad. We have mutual enemies. I’ll get some, for you, Hraazaz; and some for Kaz, who needs building up for her ordeals ahead.”

“Thank you,” said Hraazaz.

 

Tor laughed heartily when he returned and Hraazaz, Kaz, and Thyella sampled the truecheese. Hraazaz and Kaz had a blissful look on their faces, and Thyella pulled a face of disgust.

“Now you know how we feel about ambrosia, Thyella,” said Kaz. “And how heroic we’ve been to consume it.”

“But... but this tastes like.... like Tor’s toecheese!” said Thyella.

“And how would you know that?” asked Hraazaz. “My lord Tor! Have you been playing me false in letting the queen of lightning nibble your toes?”

“Not likely!” said Tor, whose mighty, rumbling laughter was almost like thunder. “I think Harkon might have something to say about that.”

“It was hypothetical,” said Thyella.

“I thought it was cheesy,” said Kaz.  “Well, ambrosia tastes like how old socks smell, and tastes like small birds which are slightly decayed.”[1]

“Really?” gasped Thyella. “To us, it is a divine taste; there are sunlings dedicated to collecting it before the gates of dawn, when the first light of the sun strikes the first dew.”

“To each their own, I guess,” said Kaz.

“How do you know how slightly decayed small birds taste?” asked Thyella.

“Trógling sometimes survive by scavenging carrion,” said Kaz. “My mother was stingy.”

There was a long silence.

“I’ve seen how trógling can be; I have standing orders for my followers,” said Tor.

 

oOoOo

 

Word came from Crondion, now General Crondion, in Selenopolis. He sent his messages through prayer, or what Harkon called, ‘Alethos express,’ which earned him an affectionate cuff to the back of the head from Alethos.

“Some of the front runners of the deserting army have reached the empire, and have happily defected to the new regime,” said Alethos. “Crondion’s a good man, but I would not mind, Ralthur, if you and Sjurgi went to back him up; and you can do hero travel, both of you, to carry missives and suggestions.”

“I will be glad to help sort things out,” said Ralthur. “I might take some supplies and go help some of the struggling deserters and in doing so, help them decide what side they are on.” He was an associate priest of Harkon and Thyella, and could windwalk, as could Sjurgi, which made things easier.

“If you could aim to hit sundry temples to Selen on the solstice, it would help,” said Kaz.  “I have a feeling I will need to go to the Trickster’s mound again.”

“It’s a bit of moon rock,” said Alethos. “It has a mystical connection to the lunarsphere.”

“That explains a lot,” said Kaz. “So, run the maze in the physical world and then the mystical maze of his magical domain to free the trógling souls there.”

“And we will await you with Rogaz to join you in dealing with Selen and her creatures,” said Hraazaz. “At least, I hope so.”

“You will give birth on the first day of Winterscome,” said Tor. “How did I know that?”

“Blame my mother-in-law for that,” said Kaz.

“I do not argue with Fate,” said Tor. “She is older than time and older than toróg.”

 



[1] Not ambrosial, but faint canaries?    I could not resist that as a word play.