I had given the bow to Witalis before the end. It was meant as another bit of insurance, whatever that actually meant. The First Story was another glass-like artifact that filled with life when I touched it. It spoke through me in just the same way the ring did, but it felt more polite, more sympathetic.
“What was I so afraid of?” I asked the bow at the feet of Witalis’ mound of earth. “Why did I give you to Witty? Why did I give the ring to Chalice? Do you remember?”
“I wish I had all the answers, God,” the bow said.
“But you don’t,” I guessed.
“I know that you told Witalis a story to convince him. You told him of the time he taught you how to hunt… and how you didn’t take to the sport. But you did need to know for yourself. You did need to see it for yourself to understand.”
“To understand what?”
“What a creature does when it knows it’s going to die.”
“Why did I want to understand that?”
“I don’t know,” the bow said softly. “I’m sorry. I wish I knew, but I’m just a story. I am a branch and a medallion. I am a stag and a wood. I’m a parent and a child. I am a lesson. I am a truth. That is… all I am, God. You told this story to Witalis and he was glad to take me.”
“Another mystery… Another question,” I said simply as the bow went quiet. “Another damned memory that doesn’t explain anything.”
“Papyrus.” It was Djince.
I got to my feet and unstrung the bow before I turned to him and handed the weapon in its pieces to him. He took them reverently, a question in his eyes. I touched his shoulder and moved past him, toward our gear and Lupa waiting at the saddles. “Let’s go,” I said.
“I don’t like your quiet,” Djince told me after Lupa had fallen asleep.
“I’m thinking,” I said, stoking the fire with a pine switch.
“What’re you thinking?”
I’m thinking about The First Story. I’m thinking I’ll only ever get close to knowing the truth, but I’ll never see all of it… So many books and so little time… So much to find out… and the world might implode before I ever discover the truth. Is that why I came back one hundred years later? To stop this world from expiring once again? Did Periut tell me something? Did my twin impart something of the future on me? Something that hinted at the end? Was that why I was ensuring that I would come back if anything happened to me? What did happen to my divine form? Why was I recreated mortal? Why did Mordis want me to thank him? He was… my lover, wasn’t he? He was my… husband. I drove him mad, Witalis said. I drove them all mad. To what end?
I shook my head. Where would I have begun?
Djince got up and came over to my bedroll. He put his arm around me and pulled me to him as he sat against my saddle. He was warmed by the fire and his cheeks were rosey with wine. He seemed more relaxed, now that the forest was conquered and his stomach was full and his wine was had. He clasped his other hand in mine, making me relinquish the stick. His palm was calloused, his knuckles scarred silver, his fingertips rough like sandpaper.
I rested back against him reluctantly and put my head against his chest. He let go of my hand and wrapped himself around me, enveloping me in his gamey smell and his promise that nothing would entreat upon this moment without his say so or mine… all without words. Djince was just that kind of man, and I was beginning to really understand the fullness of that concept. He didn’t have or have the need for flowery words or convictions to prove to me that he cared about me. Instead of saying he gave a shit, he just… gave a shit.
It was strange, and I liked it.
I put my arms around his and kissed his wrists. Then I pulled myself from him. He didn’t protest, but I could feel his eyes on me as I returned with my bow. I put the foot of it against my boot and bent it back, pulling its string into its groove. In the firelight, I could see the dark rings under Djince’s eyes, the weariness in him. Though he was tired, he was more curious.
I said, “This is The First Story.”
“What was it? The first story?”
I sat down between his legs and he put his arms around me again as I leaned back into him. It was such a natural posture to me--like he’d been tailored to me. I brought the bow close so that the both of us could see. Within the glass, the shapes of men and women took shape. They wore skins and carried with them spears. But then, a figure with ram’s horns and new face paint appeared out of the mist within. “It’s about a new warrior,” I whispered. “He was ready to prove his worth to his people. He was ready to hunt.”
I heard Djince draw in a short breath as he watched over my shoulder. Happy to have an audience, I said, “The new warrior did not have a spear because he did not have a father that could give him one. So he went into the wood and asked the trees what could be done. The wood gave him a branch of yew and rowan and oak, and told him to use the sinew from his mother’s medallion as its string.
“He went to his mother and begged her to give him the sinew. She said it was all she had left of his father… but when she saw him in his hunter’s garb, she was only reminded of her man who was lost. She took off her medallion and gave it to him. She told him to lay the medallion at the place where he spilled last blood, as an offering to the wood that gave him the bow.
“The warrior went to the wood and hunted there for three days and three nights, and when he thought he would die from thirst and starvation, a great white stag, as white as his bow, appeared before him.” The stag within the bow shared the same markings on its face as the warrior’s. “The warrior gave thanks to the wood and nocked his arrow and let it fly! The stag let out a cry when the arrow struck, but it did not struggle… and the warrior had mercy on it and finished it to last blood as quickly as he could.” The boy cut the stag’s throat and closed its eyes. “He took his mother’s medallion and buried it beneath the stag’s bright blood and gave thanks to the wood for guiding him and helping him… and then…”
A bright light filled the bow and when it faded, a man stood where the stag had fallen and helped the new warrior to his feet. “The stag turned back into his lost father. The warrior and his patron returned to the village where they rejoiced and feasted… and they gave thanks.” The bow went clear and filled with the fire beyond it. “His father returned with knowledge of fire and death and rain and time--all the secrets natural to the woods--and the people believed him because they loved him and had missed him and he had returned.”
I chuckled then. “The knowledge of fermentation came back with him, and with that, the first steps towards civilization were made.” I set The First Story aside and held Djince’s arms.
I was almost he asked methodically, “The first story ever told… is about the invention of booze?”
I grinned. “Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Djince huffed a laugh. “It’s… good.”
“What? Were you expecting something grander?”
“No,” he insisted with a chuckle. “I don’t know what I expected.” He took my right hand and kissed the back of it tentatively, his mouth lingering on my scar. He asked quietly, “Where… did you get this?”
I didn’t remember, but I hated sounding like a broken record. I took my hand from him to quell the butterflies in my stomach and asked, “What happened to you in the Worm’s Wood?” When he opened his mouth with a confused look on his face, I clarified with, “I mean… the first time. How did you escape Witalis?”
He closed his mouth and rested his chin on my shoulder. I could practically hear the gears in his head turning. Then he asked, “He was your brother?”
“My brother-in-law,” I admitted.
“Mordis’ brother,” he said, putting two and two together. “You were married to him. It wasn’t just an intimate relationship.”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“How do you…?” He let out a breath. “Do you still…?”
“Do I still love him?” I thought about it. “No… Not after seeing what he’s become. I don’t even… I don’t think I ever will again. He killed Ethis. He’s made an enemy of us… He’s demonized me.”
“When I said I’d kill him, and you’d help me…”
“Yes?”
“What were you thinking?”
“Well, what were you thinking?” I asked, perplexed, but smiling.
“I thought you’d convince me that revenge is bad, especially after how you reacted to me killing those boyos.”
“Killing the boyos was unnecessary.”
“And revenge is necessary?”
“I think revenge is one solution to a problem with many solutions.”
Djince fell silent for a moment. “Many solutions?” The question sounded like a statement, but he waited for my response.
“There can be more than one answer to a problem, contrary to what many philosophies will preach. Your problem is feeling like a failure… or feeling slighted… or feeling deprived of your brother’s future… or am I wrong? You decided that the answer to this problem is revenge. It’s not just about honor. It’s about balance. Eye for an eye.”
Djince let me go then, leaving me cold. When he was across the fire from me, he looked down at his hands, his back to me. He said slowly, “Brother for brother. You said it.” He scratched at his scar. “There can be more than one answer to my problems. Mordis will die one day… but I don’t know if I will be the one holding the blade that kills him any more.”
“You’re… letting him go because Witalis is dead.”
He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. “Seeing you like that… It made me realize that these gods--whatever they are now--they…” He made a frustrated sound under his breath. “You told Ethis that the pantheon is your family. That was your brother… and you let me kill him in front of you.”
I wiped my nose on my sleeve. “Yes, I did.”
“How… can you look at me? After?”
I frowned at his back. “We are all free to make our own choices.”
He glanced over his shoulder at me once and nodded as he looked away. “Granted…” Then he took a deep breath and asked what I believe he’d been meaning to ask for the last ten minutes: “Why did you choose me?”
“I didn’t choose you,” I said factually. “I chose Ethis.”
He nodded to himself. “But, you didn’t promise him anything.”
“Djince, you’re doing it again. Just be blunt with me,” I ordered.
Djince turned and gave me a small smile. “You can leave anytime you want. You have the skills, knowledge--and you know I would give you the supplies you needed… As much as I want to keep my promise to Ethis, you don’t really need my protection.” He laughed a little and sat on his bedroll. “I guess I mean to ask: why are you choosing me?”
I opened my mouth to dispute him, but closed it. Stone’s bones, I am choosing him, I thought to myself. Denying it now would be stupid! I cleared my throat. You’ve done dumber things. Remember the Dark Ages? That was fun… If the worst thing you can do right now is get behind a courier who’s about to be intrinsically tied to the fate of this world’s future, then… Honestly, I wonder what could be better! Think about it, Poppy! Finally, an adventure story to call your own… and the view isn’t half-bad, either. I chuckled under my breath and Djince gave me an embarrassed look.
“Shit,” he mumbled as he laid back on his roll. He put his hands to his face. “Fucking… wine… I’m an alcoholic.”
Before he could make a total fool of himself, I held out my hands, laughing. “Oh no, stop! No harm! No, it’s just, I was thinking I would be an idiot if I pretended that I wasn’t interested in you now… after all that’s happened.”
Djince eyed me dubiously.
“I’m just being honest… with myself, if we’re being clear.” I laid back on my own bedroll and put my hands to my face. When I peeked out between my fingers, he was eyeing me just the same. “And I'm not drunk this time,” I said to him and he let his fingers slide down his stubble. “So we can’t pretend we didn’t have this conversation in the morning.”
He put his hands behind his head and looked up at the stars. He let out a breath and said in a half-mumble, “We’re gonna need some more firewood if we’re… planning to stay up any longer…”
Oh, he’s adorable. You should take advantage of him. I almost laughed, but stifled it with a cough. “Lupa’s feet are literally five inches from your head.”
“I’ll just kill him. Who would know?”
I laughed out loud then and Djince gave me another embarrassed look which only made me laugh harder. “Oh! I shouldn’t laugh. You’re being serious, but that’s what’s so funny… It’s sweet that you would kill your cousin just so we could have some alone time tonight, but… We’ll be in Silverstone tomorrow. We can find a place then.”
Djince nodded sleepily. “Hm… I should be blunt more often.”
“I don’t mind it, sometimes.” I added when he gave me side-eye, “You’re just sloth-like… sometimes.”
“And you’re an ass sometimes.”
I gaped at him. “I’m the ass?” I scoffed. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”
“Then don’t,” he said, closing his eyes.
“I…” I began, but I noticed he was smirking. I snorted. “Good night, Djince Evan Kallos… Don’t swallow your tongue in your sleep.”
His sleepy smile widened. “Night,” he bid me warmly.
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