Goddess by Liv Savell (books for 6 year olds to read themselves txt) 📗

motivations have been entirely selfish. It is, of course, possible that the Goddess has strayed towards a more altruistic path, but I doubt it. The most likely explanation is that she needs the other Gods for some end that benefits her.

There is no telling what that might be, though.

I confess I feel guilty about my treatment of the ghost in Aryus’s tower, though perhaps, without the artifact to look after, he will finally retire from this world… 

⫸

The storms had slowed them down, but Meirin was used to mountain weather. Many patrols, she returned with her clothes soaked by mist and her boots damp and cold. Besides, Etienne had said the nature of the storm was strange, and he and Delyth both suspected it was Enyo who caused it.

Which meant, if they were close enough to experience the discomfort of a gale, then they were indeed close to catching their prey.

As the storm abated in time for their evening supper, Meirin found very little to be frustrated about and instead busied herself with cleaning her weapons. Her companions were quiet, as usual. Delyth rarely spoke unless it was to instruct or inform. Etienne could be a good conversationalist at times, but he too fell into prolonged silences. Thoughtful or miserable, Meirin didn’t know.

With a warm supper in their bellies and the potential for a dry night, Meirin tried to think of something worth discussing, if only so she wouldn’t feel so isolated.

“Would anyone like tea?”

✶

“Yes, thank you,” Delyth said, surprising Etienne. He knew that tea in the evenings had been a time she and Alphonse had often spent with each other, long before he realized how close they had really become. Somehow, he had expected her to turn the cup away when offered from another hand.But, he had noticed that she was attempting conversation more since their run-in with the bandits, and perhaps this was some other attempt at trying to be… better. Less broken.

Etienne was glad, in a sad, removed way. Alphonse would not have wanted either of them to stop living. And there was still hope of saving her. If the runes worked. He turned his eyes back to the dirt, where he was practicing drawing the runes for Enyo’s trap with the tip of one finger.

When he looked up again, water was already heating above the flames. “It seems strange, doesn’t it? How many things we do alike despite how different our countries are. Tea in the evenings, worshipping at temples, respecting the dead…”

The magic was wholly different, he supposed. And the settlements. But the people—Delyth, Meirin… They were not the savages he had once been led to believe.

Meirin poured the hot water into cups as she listened and looked up with a small smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Did you think we would be vastly different? I mean… How distinct can two peoples be? We’re all human—” Her gaze flickered to Delyth and then returned steadily to the task at hand. Human enough, at least, to be effectively the same.

“I suppose Ingolans have a poor view of Thloegr and its children? I was always taught Ingolans were soft-handed, soft-minded people who wore perfumes and couldn’t hold their ale.” Meirin was smirking as she passed Delyth a cup, then Etienne.

Etienne snorted. “And I was taught that the people of the Wildlands were brutal savages that knew no law, practiced blood magic, and worshipped strange Gods.”

True enough, he supposed.

But that didn’t take into account their loyalty to their clans or temples, their courage, and their skill in battle. In Delyth, he had seen unwavering determination. In Meirin, an empathetic and clear-sighted companion.

“There’s always more than one side to a story,” he said, considering their story so far. It was time, he thought, to change his role in it.

“Certainly. In my side of the story, you don’t smell all that floral.” Wrinkling her nose playfully, Meirin settled back and looked up at the sky. “If we keep up this pace, I suspect we’ll encounter the Gods tomorrow. Are we ready?” She sipped her tea, looking directly at Etienne. He was the crux of the plan. He had to lay the trap; he had to work the big magic. Could he handle it? Was he able?

Etienne hesitated, dropping his eyes back to the rune he had carved into the dirt. After a moment, he brushed it away.

“We’re ready,” Delyth said, her voice steady. Etienne flinched, startled by the sound. He had all but forgotten she was there, sipping at her tea distractedly. “Etienne has mastered the rune trap, and I will help him set them. Then, all we have to do is meet Enyo and her companions to lead them back to the traps so that Etienne can perform the binding ritual.”

It had been a long time since Etienne had seen Delyth’s stoic calm so impenetrable. Perhaps being so close to freeing Alphonse gave her some comfort.

Not him. He was awash with nerves. There were just too many ways the plan could go wrong.

“How, exactly, do you propose we get them to chase us? I mean… Will they simply want to because they don’t like you? Or should we antagonize them?” Her tone made it clear; Meirin didn’t think the idea of deliberately poking a God was a good one. Still, she was willing to be chased down by Enyo and Tristan, willing to be ‘bait’ for this little plan they had cooked up.

“And—Do you really think we can elude them long enough to spring the trap?” Despite the nature of her questions, seeming so doubtful, her tone was only mildly concerned.

“It's a little… difficult to predict exactly what Enyo will do,” Etienne said, vastly understating the Goddess’s fickle nature. “But there are things we could say that would undoubtedly make her angry enough to chase us.”

Or just conjure a blizzard and mire them in snow for days.

“She’ll take the bait,” Delyth said, her eyes distant. “Enyo always gets what she wants, and we’ve managed to take that away