Chapter 13: Sky Mountain – part 1

All the excitement in the early morning translated into a late start of the day for the entire village. The baby, Hastess, had taken to crying at anything and everything and the procession of villagers coming in and out of the house did not help.

D’Argen was exhausted just looking at them from where he sat on the ground, leaning against the stone wall of the well.

“You are Missir D’Argen, right?” A young man asked as he came up to him.

D’Argen had to squint against the sun behind the man’s back when he looked up at him.

“Lord, actually,” D’Argen corrected, using the title that ranked him above his three companions in the mortals’ eyes.

“Apologies. Lord D’Argen. And thank you. For helping Marsha. Since Isme and Rimas left the other day, we were all worried. Thank you for being here.”

“I did nothing,” D’Argen replied even as he flexed his fingers. His hand still hurt. “Marsha did all the work. And Amastas and Shabir.”

“Thank you,” the young man said again, putting more feeling behind the words, and then bowed his head low before turning away to leave.

A few more villagers came up to him to thank him and make him feel awkward. As usual, Lilian was his saviour. They came up to him with a sour expression, even though it cleared when a few of the villagers expressed their gratitude towards them as well.

“You should change your top,” Lilian said as soon as they were close.

D’Argen refused to look down at himself. The blood from his dreams was seeping into the ground at the corner of his eye and he feared what his robes looked like.

“The house is a little busy now,” D’Argen replied instead.

“Abbot got all our stuff. Moved them to Marsha’s house.”

“Oh? So, there was an entire house available for us to sleep in to avoid the nightly drama?”

Lilian snorted out a laugh but did not say anything else on the topic. Instead, they nudged D’Argen with the tip of a boot where he sat on the ground and said, “You look undignified. Nothing like a god who just blessed a baby into the world.”

It was D’Argen’s turn to snort out a laugh. He did get up, though, dusted off his robes a bit with lazy hands, and then finally focused on Lilian to ask, “are you okay?”

Lilian did not reply for a long time. Finally, they shrugged but their expression was dark. Lilian was once known as the God of Spring and was worshipped by many mortals for it. As the God of Spring, they were expected to know all about bringing new life into the world. None of the Never Born could procreate though. Lilian, even less so. No matter how much they wanted to and had expressed it in the past.

When Lilian’s title was first questioned, it was due to a lack of a womb and breasts like a woman should have – the creator of life. That was only the first step toward their fall. But it was such a quick one. Lilian’s fall as the God of Spring was the fastest one D’Argen had ever witnessed. The woman who first accused them of being unworthy of that title was still alive when Acela took Lilian’s title and rank and handed them over to another god.

Hiras, who was still sometimes called the God of Storms, was like Lilian and all other Never Born; she could not procreate. She did, however, have the figure that many mortals believed to be acceptable for the creation of life. The fact that Hiras’ storms were much more showy and dramatic than Lilian’s soft spring breeze was a definite plus as well.

Lilian did not hold a grudge against the new God of Spring, but they had never been the same after that, even if that title was first bestowed upon them by the mortals and meant nothing at all to the Never Born.

They were the same as Abbot: a minor god forgotten by history. The same as Yaling.

All three of them were gods that the mortals had stopped worshipping thousands of years ago. It was why D’Argen had asked each of them to be his travel companions. It meant that there was no need to check in with Acela and no need to observe a mortal holiday or event.

It also meant that Abbot stayed out of the drink to the point of incoherence, Lilian out of the dark pits their mind took them spiralling into, and Yaling out of the anger that turned her violent enough to start a war on her own.

“I take it we will not be getting any stories from them anytime soon.” Abbot walked up to the two of them with a huge grin on his face. Sometimes, Abbot’s smiles looked forced, but it was even worse when they looked too relaxed after mixing other herbs into his tobacco.

This time, his smile was true and there was a bounce in his step.

“I got a lot from Amastas last night, before… all this.” D’Argen waved his hand to indicate the gathering crowd.

“So, we can go?”

“And we should,” D’Argen replied with a nod. “Isme should know his son is born safe and sound so he can return home.”

“Isme has a job to do.” A voice startled D’Argen into peeking around the well.

Shabir was sitting on the ground behind the wall of the well with a pipe between her lips and arms crossed over her chest. D’Argen must have missed when she exited the house to hide away from the crowds.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Isme is a lazy son of a cow that doesn’t know how to do his job properly. If you go up that mountain and he returns without any medicines for the winter, I will banish him myself.” Shabir sounded both angry and tired as she spoke.

“That seems a little harsh.”

“So is our village being wrecked by sickness again. His babe will die if he doesn’t do his job properly.”

“Now, surely—”

“Look here,” Shabir interrupted him and glared up at D’Argen. “I don’t mean to insult you, milord, but we have our ways. The fact that you all were here this morning was a blessing for the babe, sure, but it is not proper and not how it’s done. The father should be here for the birthing. The father should be the one to hold the babe first and choose its name. Because the father, in this case, is an unprepared idiot, does not excuse him from his duties. If he is unable to do his fatherly duties, he better well do his duties as a doctor to us all.”

The short speech had D’Argen gawking openly at the old woman.

She puffed hard on her pipe, her scowl so deep that her eyes were almost invisible in her wrinkles.

D’Argen felt the surprise rolling off Lilian beside him and even Abbot looked insulted. Instead of letting those emotions take over, D’Argen crouched in front of Shabir and smiled.

“Then we will go find the father and help him get his job done faster so he can return home to his family.” When Shabir opened her mouth in an obvious protest, D’Argen lifted a hand to silence her. “I understand that helping him, in this case, is a hindrance to his growth, but I think it is most important that a family is reunited.”

Shabir was still scowling but after a long moment of thought, she let go of a sharp nod.

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D’Argen grinned wide and stood up again. “There! It’s been decided. Now, if you do not need us, we’ll be off.”

Shabir nodded and puffed on her pipe. When D’Argen turned around though, she called out his name.

“We will pray to you,” she said through a scowl. “To all of you. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” D’Argen replied as he faced her again and raised his chin in the Never Born custom to reveal his throat to her in respect.

“And get that shirt changed,” Shabir snapped out and turned to glare at another corner of the village centre.

Lilian let out another snort and Abbot grinned wide.

When the three made it to Marsha’s house, Yaling was already there and organizing their packs. All of their winter cloaks were out and there was even a new set of robes for D’Argen laid out. The house was not, like D’Argen had assumed, empty. There were half a dozen children lined up in a neat row behind one of the sleeping pallets and looking up at Yaling with wide eyes filled with wonder. She was pretending to ignore them, not looking at them at all, even as she used her mahee and silenced the snap of a cloth then made one of Abbot’s jars sing when it barely touched another. The scent of her mahee was faint, proving she was as tired as the rest of them from having used it all morning, so it was not strong enough to intoxicate the children.

“Are we leaving?” she asked as soon as the three stepped into the room.

“As soon as I change,” D’Argen replied.

Lilian and Abbot took to helping Yaling with the packs while D’Argen got changed and then all four of them waved to the children and left the house. A few more villagers stopped them to thank them and bow and then, finally, they were out on the open road. D’Argen took a deep breath and closed his eyes, enjoying the empty space around him. Without prompting, first Lilian, then Yaling, and then Abbot each touched him and let themselves be wrapped up in his mahee.

Although it had not started snowing yet, the ground was already covered in a thin layer of frost as D’Argen ran. He did not slip even once though and only stopped when Yaling prompted him with a nudge.

“I feel different,” Yaling said as soon as they were stopped. Her face was scrunched up in confusion and she first lifted her hands to look at them, then looked at D’Argen from head to toe and back up. “You feel different.”

“What?” D’Argen asked.

“You do,” Abbot confirmed with a nod. “And so do I.”

A quick glance at Lilian revealed them nodding as well. D’Argen looked down at himself but saw nothing different than a few more layers of clothes. The skirt of his robes was a little skewed and his boots were muddy, the high collar of his new undershirt scratched stiffly against his throat, and the fur of his winter cloak tickled his cheeks.

“Your mahee,” Lilian said and then closed her eyes.

In the morning frost, the scent of dew was completely unrecognizable but D’Argen knew they opened their mahee. Abbot and Yaling followed their example. D’Argen, who had his mahee opened up until Yaling asked him to stop, did not feel the need to search. He waited for them.

“Wait, I hear something,” Yaling suddenly said and the citrus scent of her mahee turned sharper.

The other three were already used to her, so they each stood completely still and silent. A strong wind blew in from the south and Lilian used their mahee to slow it into a breeze that would not distract Yaling.

“There is a small party ahead of us. Five horses. They are in the foothills already,” Yaling said and opened her eyes to look in that direction.

“Must be Isme and the others,” Abbot said and faced that way as well.

Not Isme and the others. Thar. It was Thar. He was so close. D’Argen felt his mahee open without prompting and he started bouncing on the balls of his feet, wanting to expel that extra energy that filled him and—

“It’s more!” he suddenly said and then looked down at himself with new eyes. He still did not see anything new. But now he understood what the others had said that made them stop. “My mahee is… it’s more.”

“What do you—” Yaling interrupted herself as she reached out to touch him.

Most of D’Argen’s skin was covered except for his face and hands, but the face was too intimate, even for close the two were. Instead, she touched the back of his hand and closed her eyes. This time, instead of D’Argen wrapping her up in his mahee she did it to him. Yaling’s mahee was based on the same aspect as D’Argen’s, able to use any spell that affected the body and bettered it. Because of that, it was much easier for Yaling to reach into and touch D’Argen than it would have been for Abbot or even Lilian.

“It… it feels normal.”

“Exactly!” D’Argen explained and pulled his hand back to break their connection. “I may not have been running all night, but I didn’t get to replenish much with rest. It shouldn’t be… I shouldn’t be able to run us all without being tired now.”

Yaling hummed and her expression turned thoughtful.

“Do you think…” Lilian started speaking and then immediately trailed off. “You never… you never had many worshippers, did you?”

“No,” D’Argen replied immediately with a scoff. “I’m honestly surprised anyone knows my name and—wait. No. You don’t think…?”

“I do,” Lilian said with a smile. It looked painful.

A quick glance at Yaling and Abbot revealed they had matching expressions.

Although minor gods forgotten by time, all three of them were once worshipped. D’Argen never had been. His title as the God of Discovery was not given to him by the mortals but by Acela, as her envoy to other kingdoms. Yes, some knew the name, but so few that it would not have made a difference. Lilian, Yaling, and Abbot, however, all knew what it meant to have mortals worshipping them. It was more than a show of respect or a ritual. It was the will of the mortals manifesting inside them.

“Oh wow,” D’Argen gasped out and reached for his mahee once more, coaxing it open wider without running. “Is this what it felt like for you?”

“Probably,” Lilian answered with a shrug. “Though I am sure what you feel now is very little compared to what Acela feels on a daily basis.”

“Huh.” D’Argen had no response in mind so he shrugged. “Anyway! Umm… foothills. Isme. Thar. Shall we go?”

This time, Lilian’s smile was wide and true.

“I guess it has been a while since you last saw him,” their voice was teasing.

D’Argen rolled his eyes and reached out, grabbing their hand in a firm grip. Lilian did not stop grinning even as Abbot and Yaling touched him as well and he let the magic of his open mahee surround them so they could run once more.

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