Chapter 3

       Many gods are revered throughout these lands, all of which are integral to the world's existence. The main elements of the world are represented by the most powerful of the deities while lesser elements are presided over by demigods and spirits. For many centuries, each god was known by a separate name between societies, but relatively recently, their true names have become known to us mortals.
       In no particular order, the main pantheon is known thusly: Mijula, goddess of water and guardian of eternity; Ikfirus, god of fire and guardian of the apocalypse; Dorna, goddess of earth and guardian of life; Levok, god of wind and guardian of change; Uzhkadda, goddess of light and guardian of truth; Tenebraun, god of darkness and guardian of deceit; Bantan, goddess of sound and guardian of chaos; Merrkir, god of time and guardian of fate.
       Through these deities' combined efforts, the world is kept in balance and order. Though they are known to disagree and quarrel from time to time, they are usually able to settle their differences without harming the mortal races too severely.

       "I only ever did what I had to. You must believe me!" The man, reduced to his purest form, naked and free of ailments, fell to his knees before Uzhkadda. "I know it was wrong. It pained me each day! Lady of Light, guardian of all, please! You know I speak the truth!"
       The goddess watched him with placid eyes, her hands settled upon her throne of radiance. Tenebraun looked on beside her, his fingers flexing in anticipation of the work ahead of him, curling tightly around his whip. The man pled his case honestly, knowing he could do little to hide his guilt from the two deities. It was the time of his judgment, the time to face all the sins of his life. He had lived a life of harsh truths, truths set forth by his fellow humans. Truth, to the mortals, was a cruel aspect of the world, something that could be molded and reshaped as though it were metal.
       Such concepts did not exist in the hour of judgment. The only truth was that which Uzhkadda decided, the spirit that came forth between heart, mind, and soul. She smiled gently to the man. "Hendrik of Schwurstadt, you are a man who was tasked with much. You felt the weight of the crown upon your head, the needs of thousands in your heart. However, even as fate tests us, we are the masters of our own actions. Often, you took time to think deeply of matters, yet only rarely did you think broadly."
       "Please…" The former monarch bowed his head and raised his clasped hands, begging as he never had during his life. "Please, kind goddess, guardian of my people, you must--"
       Tenebraun snapped his whip on the mirror-like floor, causing Hendrik to start and whimper. The dark god grinned, relishing the sight. He had waited many years to see such a sight.
       "I cannot forgive you until you have learned the price of your actions, Hendrik." Uzhkadda rose from her seat, turning away. "You will learn the true value of your life's debt."
       "Goddess! Loving, kind, beautiful goddess!"
       "I give you now to darkness, for you have shunned my light."
       "My son… Surely you do not punish me for the pain I felt!"
       Tenebraun looked to Uzhkadda, watching with surprise as she turned her gaze back to the man. Only once before had he seen her respond to pleas after passing judgment. This man was hardly as deserving as the last soul had been.
       "I do not punish those for the pain they have felt. I punish those who do not learn from their pain. I punish those who inflict pain upon others." She turned away for the last time. "I give you now to darkness, for you have shunned my light."
       Hendrik screamed as Tenebraun strode towards him, the whip sliding along the floor beside him. The man crawled feebly towards the goddess, his attempt to escape cut short as the whip curled around his neck. With nothing left but strained gasps, Hendrik was dragged from the room and into the pit of fire where he would meet his punishment.

       In the quiet of the house, Virgil waited for Shaun to return with the cart. It was a long walk and a bothersome trip through the snow that had begun to fall again, but it would be worth it in the end. The mother and her child were safely sedated, laying beside each other on the floor. Virgil sat on the edge of the bed, letting out a deep sigh. The work was hard, but hard work was familiar to him. This job, however, was not the same as packing loads into merchant wagons or shoveling manure from barns. It tired his soul to do such things, bringing the worst fatigue he had ever known. The two had not struggled much, but he had to fight the inclination to fall upon the bed and sleep.
       The world was not fair. Life had treated him so well before. Before the war in Waldfläche, he had lived simply in Schwurstadt, learning his father's trade. He could have been a great tailor, the best the city had ever known, but fate had other plans. Cruel, hateful plans. War had come. He had helped his father make so many uniforms and tents, too many to count. As a reward for working his father literally to death for the city state's sake, a noble had seized ownership of his father's business. The noble proceeded to restaff it with his own workers, placing his own son in charge, replacing Virgil with one of the new owner's close friends, and leaving Virgil to figure things out on his own.
       His father had been the guiding star of his life. Without him, he had few options. Without his father, he could never give Anna the beautiful wedding she so dearly deserved. Without a steady job, he could not afford the medicine she required to survive childbirth. Without her, he was nothing, nothing but a failure and a leech who could only survive on the misery of others. Virgil's fingers clenched tightly on the bed's quilt. She should have survived. It should have been a wonderful life, a life his father would have been proud of.
       "Do you know what I'll do once you marry that girl?"
       "No, dad, I don't."
       "I'll point every time you two pass by and say 'Look, look there. I know that boy. He's the luckiest man in Schwurstadt.' And they'll say 'Who? That skinny little guy with that goddess?' I'll say 'Yes, sir, that's the one.'"
       "You're crazy, dad."
       "What's so crazy about that?"
       "You think they'll even notice me next to her?"
       "You bet I do. That's how folks are. They need someone to be jealous of."
       Virgil bowed his head as the memories flooded his mind. He had to do this. He had to get proper money so he could provide for Vincent. His son would never know such heartache. He would never go to bed with a beast growling in his stomach. And, though he could never truly replace her, he would have a new mother, one who could care for him properly and love him just as though he were her own.
       He stared at the woman laying on the floor, gazing down at her face, turned towards him as she slept. She was beautiful, just as Anna had been. This lady was no statue sitting in a garden for all to admire. Her features were strong and her face set in a determined expression. Death had taken Anna at the only time it possibly could have; she would never have been taken without the pregnancy weighing heavily on her. Death had been clever and cruel, waiting for her to be at her weakest.
       This woman must have been the same. She must have been through so much to have come so far, evading the guards and traveling discreetly. She was too wily for death to claim her. It would never catch her, not when she was so capable and strong.
       Perhaps, then, he could gain her trust somehow. He could explain himself to her, give her a choice between him and the market. He could treat her well if she let him, keep both her and her daughter as long as they helped bring in money. The struggle would be worth it. Vincent would have a mother, he would have another chance to love, and she would not be separated from her daughter. It could work so well.
       Yet it would never work. What would she think of a man who had tried to sell her back to those she had escaped before? Besides, Shaun would be upset. He had been good to Virgil, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes of this awful business. The man had been a bounty hunter for many years before the war had even started. He boasted a wide variety of knowledge on the tracking and capture of those who wanted to be forgotten. If he didn't get his cut of the auction profits, he would certainly be upset.
       It might be worth it just to have that second chance, though. Maybe Shaun would understand after all. Virgil still didn't know much about the man's past. Perhaps he had been in a similar situation and knew the pain. Virgil looked up as the cart finally pulled up beside the back window. It wouldn't hurt to ask.

       Allidar pointed to three spots on the map as Sabi looked on, her arms folded. "Here, here, and… Here." He straightened up, looking to her. "I'd like to build proper guard stations. Security is too lax."
       The accountant sighed, shaking her head. "We can build them, but I fail to understand why they need to be built."
       "What do you mean?"
       "Unless you plan to go to war, I see no reason to increase spending on such things."
       "But we are." Sabi stared at him, opening her mouth to speak. He lifted a finger. "Not all-out war. Just war in a sense."
       "Allidar, just…" She shook her head again, sighing. "Tell me what's going on. You never cared about such things before."
       He grinned. "I did, Sabi. I never had any power before, though. Now I do and I intend to use it." He lifted a pen and marked the three places in ink. "Now, aside from the guard stations, I'd like a few changes made to the laws here."
       "Such as?"
       "I've heard reports of slavers freely coming in and out of the fishing village here." He tapped the pen on a tiny coastal settlement. "With the increased security, I want this ended."
       Sabi looked him over. "I might as well send a letter to King Emil asking him to bring his army over for tea."
       "Subtlety will be key, then." He straightened up, looking to her. "Make up some new rules regarding checks on equipment. Outlaw certain items if you must. Anyone coming in with a set of manacles gets a harsh fine."
       She looked over the map again, then back to the suddenly ambitious new lord. "I never thought I would see the day." He raised a brow. "Quiet, withdrawn Allidar is rising to the challenge and hopes to surpass it." Sabi tilted her head, regarding him for a moment. "Tell me… Will this be a personal project or will you try to bring Teidran home?"
       The mention of his younger brother, absent for years, caused Allidar to pause. He hadn't heard from him ever since his father had descended dangerously far into his madness. He recalled the last letter he had sent Tei. "It is unfortunate, but our correspondence must end," he had written. "I will explain further when I am able, but I fear for your safety as long as father knows where you are. Please, continue your travels and forget this place." Tei had obeyed without another word, leaving Allidar with few worries about his brother's safety. Some days, he regretted saying such things; the past years had been lonely without his brother, jealous as he could be at times. Perhaps the time was right to finally invite him home.
       "I would have to find him first," Alli sighed. "The last I knew, he had been visiting the Grand Plains to meet the horsemen."
       Sabi nodded. "I see… Then perhaps we should leave him to his life. He may be quite happy wherever he is."
       "Maybe." Shaking off the uncertainties, Allidar nodded. "Now then. I plan on leaving tomorrow. See to it that my horse is ready at daybreak."
       "So soon?"
       "I haven't any choice, Sabi."
       "And the reason?"
       He shook his head. "I cannot say." Alli turned away, heading to the door of the study.
       "Promise me one thing, then."
       He paused at the door, his hand on the knob.
       "Promise that you will tell me as soon as you feel you can--and not a moment after."
       "I promise, Sabiduria."

       "It will never be easy, Tenebraun." He hated to see her this way, her supreme beauty tinged in sadness as she stared into her looking glass to visions of the mortal world held within. A goddess of light could only exist through light itself; her passion was her radiance, her emotions colors that drenched her in meaning. Just as none could deny her the truth, she could never deny another the truth. Her entire being glowed a dim blue, warming only slightly as Tenebraun placed his hand on her back. "I gave them my Word and my Oath, promising paradise should they adhere to it. They still ignore it. Still I am forced to punish them."
       "Such things are not your fault, my lady." He slid his hand against her back, desperate to see her happy, golden beauty again. "They choose to do as they please. You cannot be blamed. You tried."
       "I think myself cruel, Tenebraun."
       "Do not say such things."
       "I ask too much of them. I ask the wingless to fly."
       He stepped in front of her, setting a hand on her looking glass to push it down. "My lady, you ask that they do as they usually do. They are usually kind and generous, striving to fulfill your Word." He shook his head. "They are capable, but not always willing."
       She looked up at him, her starlit eyes beginning to brighten from their dusky haze. "I would be useless without your counsel, Tenebraun." Uzhkadda lowered her looking glass to her side, leaning in to embrace him. "Useless and cowering in doubt."
       "Doubts are lies, my lady. Leave the seeds of doubt to me." He wrapped his arms around her, resting his horned head carefully against hers.

       The road had been treacherous at best, but the wagon had held up marvelously. Shaun and Virgil huddled on the front of it, their cargo loaded safely and warmly on the wagon bed. "They'll need another dose soon," Shaun said, glancing to his understudy. "Do you have enough darts?" Virgil nodded. "Good." He turned his gaze back to the road, watching the terrain around them. Though it was the dead of winter and the dead of night, the moon shone brightly, illuminating the land by the snow's glimmer. Shaun traveled further along the road to the outskirts of Plimagrad, a tiny fishing village on the coast, before stopping the wagon. "Alright. Get them dosed."
       Virgil climbed off the wagon, his mind running through the words he had been preparing all evening. "So I was thinking something about these two in particular," he started, climbing into the bed of the wagon.
       "Yeah? What about 'em?"
       "Well," he continued, readying his bundle of darts. "I don't think I told you, but I lost my wife not long ago."
       "I don't like where this is going, kid."
       Virgil frowned, pulling back the covers keeping the two warm. "I know, I know, but…" He looked between the two, frowning. The little girl's cheeks and nose were rosy from the cold, but her mother seemed awfully pale. He reached over to her, turning her face a bit. "Huh. Must be the light…"
       "What do you mean?"
       "The mother looks really pale in the moonlight."
       Shaun turned around on the front seat, leaning over the bed for a better look. "Ah, hell…" He pulled his glove off and exposed his hand to the cold, pressing his fingers to the woman's throat. "You're going to cost me a fortune, kid."
       "Why do you say…" Virgil stared at the woman, his gaze snapping up to Shaun. The older man shook his head as he pulled his glove back on. "What makes you say that?"
       "Well, see for yourself. She's dead, kid."
       Virgil's heart clenched.
       "The hell kind of dart did you use on her?"
       "I… I used the one for average size." He quickly sorted through his darts. "I'm sure I did. See, look, I restocked before we left, grabbed four of each. Used one of the small doses on the kid, so there's three of those, used one of the average doses on the lady, so there's…" The cold air began to sting his mouth, his lips parted as he stared at the four darts in question. His eyes reluctantly snapped to the rest of his darts.
       Three left.
       "Bah. At least we still have the kid. Dose her and let's go."
       Virgil looked back to the pale woman, sliding the darts back into their bundle. He had been right all along. Death would have to catch her unawares, corner her where she had no escape. How convenient that he had played death's agent.
       Virgil looked to the little girl, carefully picking out a small dose to use on her. As the dart was spent, he tossed it into the snow with a snap of his wrist.
       He carefully covered the two up again, climbing down from the wagon bed and up onto the seat. He had owed money before, owed food before, but he had never known a debt that he could never truly repay. Yet now he had one laying in the back of the wagon.
       Shaun glanced over at Virgil as the horse began its walk again. "Listen, kid… Don't let it get to you."
       "I'm fine."
       "Don't think you can get a lie past me." Shaun stared ahead, watching the Plimagrad draw near. "It's your first time. I know."
       "Yeah…"
       "It'll get better, though. You just have to stay tough. For your little boy's sake, you know?"
       Virgil nodded, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. "Yeah."

       "You've been quiet."
       "It is none of your concern, mortal."
       "I suppose it isn't," Allidar conceded, sighing as he laid down on his bed. "However, I will be curious nonetheless."
       "Sleep. Sleep and dream of what you'll do to straighten out this mess you inherited."
       "Ah… Finally, I've been given some lenience." He smirked, clasping his hands behind his head. Already he had grown accustomed to seemingly talking to himself. "You're willing to say that I wasn't at fault for all of this, then?"
       "You still sicken me."
       "I'll regard it as progress."
       "Sleep, mortal."
       "Call me by my proper name and I may consider it."
       "Sleep, Allidar," he sneered.
       "Better. Without the tone, this time."
       "I'll crush your soul in your sleep."
       "No, you won't." He lifted a strand of his hair, twisting it around his finger. In the moonlight of his room, the strand reflected a dim, bluish glow. "You tried that already, remember? It didn't work."
       Tenebraun growled.
       "I'll help you, you know."
       "With what, exactly…"
       "Finding her." Tenebraun remained quiet. Alli unravelled the strand from his finger. "I'm sympathetic. More so than you, I might add." He placed his hand on his chest, staring at the plaster ceiling of his room. As his eyes began to focus in the dark, he could start to discern the texture of the ceiling. "Despite all you've done, I know you only do it because you're desperate to find her. And why wouldn't you be? Darkness is nothing without light, correct?"
       "You speak as though you could possibly comprehend," Tenebraun snapped, the shadows in the room shifting along with his agitation.
       "More than you might think, actually…" Allidar watched the shadows begin to settle back into place. "For a long time, I thought I might be able to find a way to release my mother from the form she was cursed with. I know what it means to grow desperate."
       "You know nothing of desperation… Nothing of true reliance upon another."
       "Then it is only by her grace that you live?"
       "It is only by her grace that I have a reason to live."
       The two remained silent for a moment, both able to sense each others' thoughts growing busy. The shadows flickered occasionally, seeming to squirm in pain.
       "…I see. Then that legend was true."
       "What are you talking about?"
       "A legend I heard when I was small… It is said that the day is Uzhkadda's time of supremacy. However, as she judges the dead and gives the sinners to Tenebraun, she forgives him for the brutality and hatred he employs. To repay him for his service, she gives him the night to do with as he pleases."
       A flicker of warmth flashed through Allidar's mind. He closed his eyes, nodding slightly. "I think I understand, now. You aren't desperate for the world's sake. You're desperate for your own sake. To be with her again."
       "…I miss her terribly."