Three weeks after the release of the mad god Defurge
Bronwyn Amyna, hopefully still the captain of the Emestrian royal guard, knelt next to the skeletal remains trying to ascertain the cause of death. It was not the first dead body she had seen. In Emestria she had investigated murders, but it was the first she had seen in months. The skeleton had already been picked clean by scavengers and many of the bones were scattered about among the clothes of the deceased.
She fingered a rib bone; there were signs of predation—uneven breaks in the bones—but there was a precise cut in the middle. Too even to be made by the crunching of bone by a larger animal, and too deep for rats or vultures to cause. The wrist and anklebones also had indications of manmade weapons; they were splintered, but there were bladed cuts as well.
In the pocket of the pants, a piece of paper peeked out. Bronwyn dropped the rib bone and removed the note, unfolding it with difficulty as blood had dried in several places and stuck those sections together, ripping the paper. Between the age of the writing, the tearing, and the dried blood, very little information was legible.
“There’s another over here,” Defurge called from twenty feet away.
Bronwyn put the note back in the deceased man’s pocket, rose slowly, then headed to where Defurge waited. The former god’s medium-length, silvery hair blew in the breeze. No nation had citizens with silver tresses; maybe it came from Defurge’s time as the incarnation of the god of fire and madness. She looked at the other set of skeletal remains, taking a cursory glance. Nothing about this skeleton stood out to her, but given the state of the carcasses, she guessed they died around the same time.
“Could the creature Miro described have caused this?” Defurge asked.
“Well, I doubt we have to worry about bandits. Having the god of fire by your side pretty much guarantees safety.” Defurge chuckled and started to walk northeast with little fanfare. She cast another glance at the other skeleton then followed him.
God of fire and madness, Bronwyn thought before chastising herself. Defurge had once been just a man, but had come upon a gem that made him an incarnation of that god of madness. He had no memories of his time as the god of fire and the actions he committed during that time were a product of the insanity that gem caused, not his fault. But now, he wasn’t really even a god. He was… well something, but definitely not a god. Still, there was a feeling she couldn’t shake about the corpses. If she weren’t so relieved at being away from the library she had just come from, that feeling would have actually bothered her.
Wordlessly, the duo walked to the northeast for another two hours before Bronwyn suggested making camp. The ruins of the town petered back down to the occasional stone foundation coated in vegetation. The forest was still a quarter day’s travel away, but she didn’t want to enter it at night. The last time she had fought at night in a forest didn’t turn out too well, and she didn’t have Miro with her this time to make sure she stayed alive.
Bronwyn still didn’t quite understand the magi’s curse. Miro never explained it well and admitted to knowing little about it. But when a magus underwent great times of strife—physical or emotional—the being that lent its power, the Ywaigwai, would flood the magus with magical energy, killing all life around it, including the magus. Then the Ywaigwai could come and claim that magus’ soul. There was no way to exit the curse once it was fully entered, and thankfully the two times Miro had almost entered the curse, something had intervened.
Miro. She wanted him here. Despite her being the one that commanded he wasn’t allowed to leave the library; she still wanted him here. They had travelled together for two months, and she found herself missing their fireside chats before arriving at the deserted Library of Laevin they had made their base of operations. That choice, the one that he shouldn’t fight alongside her anymore, seemed like a distant memory and she still had trouble rectifying her thoughts in the moment with her current feelings.
They had fought Defurge, been sucked into the very gem that once gave Defurge his abilities, then made a deal with the entity contained within the gem to destroy it, but Miro lost control of his powers. Bronwyn tried to tell herself the decision was sensical, that Miro was too dangerous, that his magic could overwhelm him, but after they exited the gem, when she had decided to kill him to protect the rest of her group, he hadn’t resisted her. She shuddered thinking about the look in his eyes, the way he welcomed death, but she remembered the way his eyes had clouded, him about to enter his curse, but he didn’t. He struggled against the force that would had endangered her, but she had still been filled with some foreign compulsion to strike him down.
Bronwyn shook her head, dismissing the nagging feeling, as she put her pack down and started to set up camp. Defurge needed direction in how to erect the tents, but with a simple wave of his hand he caused the wood they gathered to light in a bright blaze. Former gods of fire were somewhat useful. It made up for the fact that his knowledge of the world was limited. When Miro and she had agreed to destroy the gem and free all the former incarnations’ souls from being prisoners from within, the phoenix, one of the incarnations still sane in the gem, used her power to liberate Defurge of his madness. Part of that boon was that he lost all memories of his time as a human and a god.
After ensuring that Defurge had satisfactorily followed her orders in erecting the tent, Bronwyn retrieved ingredients for the night’s meal from her bag: rabbit, potatoes, onions, carrots and some spices. She poured her waterskin in with the meat and vegetables and set a pot up above the fire to heat and simmer. A nearby rock made a good sitting stone, and she removed her steel greatsword to inspect it for any nicks or burs to polish out.
As she sharpened, she said, “Since this creature Miro described is dangerous, I need to know what you’re capable of before heading into battle.”
“Although my powers as the god are locked off to me, I still have the abilities of the phoenix at my disposal. I can create fire, usher it forth, and even imbue my weapon with it.” Defurge indicated toward the whip at his hip.
“We should probably look into finding you a more suitable armament,” she replied, not taking her eyes from the six-inch-wide sword she sharpened.
“Are you offering yours up?” he asked.
“No, but if you could utilize something like this, that would be helpful. Perhaps we could start you off with a spear.”
Defurge extended his hand and Bronwyn hesitated before tipping her blade in his direction. With one hand, he gripped the hilt, then raised it. Honestly, she was a little surprised that he effortlessly hefted its weight. Most people required two hands to lift the weapon, and definitely needed both to wield it proficiently. The only reason she was able to switch to a one-handed stance was because she had exercised so diligently, and the fact that she was Emestrian. Long ago, the goddess of ice, death, and fate, Fria, sired many demigods and requested they settle in the same region, bolstering the bloodlines and making Emestrians the strongest of the people in the world, Primerra. Still, she had never seen an Emestrian swing a sword like hers one-handed; no one trained as hard or as regularly as she.
Defurge swished the sword in the air a couple of times before offering it back to Bronwyn. She readily took it; although not the greatsword her father had wielded in the Battle of Lynnfield fifteen years ago, it was similar and she liked to think she would have one day inherited his blade if he had outlived the war. Only three people survived the monster or weapon, or possibly something else, that destroyed Lynnfield and the armies occupying it. Miro, the Invincible Hero King Bryant, and one other, a friend of Miro’s.
Although the battle of Lynnfield had been fifteen years ago, Emestria found itself in conflict with the neighboring nation of Rouke once again. Relations had always been strained between the two nations and it was just a matter of time before they found themselves locked in conflict. This time, Rouke had brought the fight to the heart of Emestria, severing supply lines and trying to starve the country into surrender.
“Thanks, but I prefer my whip,” Defurge said.
“Your whip won’t be as effective in combat.”
Defurge leaned back casually before replying, “It’s not my bladed lash that’s dangerous, it’s the fire that I can create on it. I can ensnare a target from a dozen feet away and burn it to ash. With a sword, I’d be limited to a couple of feet. I can produce flames that travel that far. Seems like a waste.”
Bronwyn nodded at the assessment. She had yet to see him fight without his godly powers, so she wasn’t sure of his skill, but there was a feeling she had around him, a comfortableness, a desire to be agreeable; he was quite charming. Not in a romantic way, she had no time for such idle thoughts, she was trying to save her homeland. This quest to recover the legendary artifacts was supposed to be Emestria’s salvation. No, it would be Emestria salvation. “Hopefully fire will be enough of a deterrent for this creature. I don’t know about the magical, but normal animals avoid fire, so maybe just emitting it for some time will allow us to explore the area and retrieve the artifact unmolested.”
“What is so important about this artifact?” Defurge asked. “You said Miro had identified a dozen of artifacts that you’ve been tasked to recover but you’re following a vague lead to seek this one out. ”
“King Bryant tasked us with recovering as many artifacts as possible, to make Emestria a nation no other would dare attack with their power. Emestria, my country, is besieged. The nation of Rouke is trying to starve our people by cutting off our trade supplies and occupying our farmland. The Horn of Garanhir is supposed to make food. With it in Emestria’s possession, we can weather the siege until the glacial season is over and try to negotiate with other nations for help come the renewal season. Then, we’ll have time to recover other artifacts.”
“Or you could return with a god at your side and I could lay waste to the army.”
Bronwyn cringed before replying, “I think Miro might have a problem with that tactic. His wish is to limit callous loss of life.”
“Is it callous if I’m saving your people by destroying your enemies?”
“If we find this artifact, it won’t be necessary to kill thousands. And besides…” She allowed the thought to die on her lips, but Defurge’s narrowed eyes convinced her he wasn’t going to leave it incomplete.
“Besides what?” Defurge asked.
With a sigh, she replied, “Well, do you really think you can destroy an entire army? Clara, Miro, Issaroh, and myself were able to best you in combat. And you were actually working with the powers of the god, although diminished. Now you’re telling me that you don’t have access to that very power, only that of the phoenix.”
“I had been trapped underground for four-hundred years. I must have been weakened, which is the only reason you succeeded.”
“Why don’t we see how well you fight before committing to a one-man war? From what I understand, if you were to fall in battle, the next one to pick up your gem would become the new incarnation of the god of madness, except the phoenix would not be able to temper their insanity. She indicated she could only do it once, because when you died, she would turn mad as well. I’d hate to see that gem passing from person to person, each one reeking more devastation.”
Defurge waved his hand dismissively. “No one’s getting my gem. I’m the last Defurge there will ever be. You’ll see how well I fight.”
“Yes, because we’ll look for the artifact to destroy the gem after we find the one that makes food here,” Bronwyn said.
Defurge tensed and seemed cautious about replying to Bronwyn. When he finally did speak, he asked, “That old scholar, Issaroh, told me that nations used to have patron gods and goddesses. Was I Emestria’s patron god?”
Bronwyn snorted. Defurge narrowed his eyes. “No, Emestria’s patron goddess was Fria, goddess of ice, death, and fate.”
“I know what my family’s realms of influence are,” Defurge chided.
“Well, you didn’t know how to erect a tent. How am I supposed to know everything you do and don’t know?”
With a quick shake of his head and a dismissive hand flick, Defurge said, “Did Rouke worship me? Is that why they are fighting Emestria? To prove that their god is stronger?”
“No one fights for the gods and goddesses anymore. They abandoned us, and I’m pretty sure that was a good thing. Just Laevin and Defurge’s battles destroyed entire cities and killed thousands of people.”
“You mean my battles? We created you and you forsake us just because we’re not actively bestowing our gifts at the moment?”
“You created nothing. If anything, that gem around your neck is the real god Defurge. You have the personality and powers of him because you picked it up. As we say in Emestria,
giving a child a sword makes them a warrior naught.”
“Tomorrow, you’ll see a warrior god in action.”
“Defurge, I—” Bronwyn tightly gripped her temples as an intense headache roiled through her skull. The pain was so directed, she found herself unable to remember what she was going to say. “I need to lie down. We have a long day ahead of us. You can debate godhood with Issaroh, that’s his strength. I’m just the one that pokes bad things with sharp sticks.”
“Oh, sorry to hear you’re not feeling well. I didn’t realize our conversation was bothering you so.”
Bronwyn returned to making her soup, and the conversation turned from less tense subjects. She would have given anything for Clara or Issaroh to be here. They would be a small consolation to the man she really wanted to be here, Miro. How ironic that she was the one that said he couldn’t accompany her on trips like this, but all she felt was a desire to have him beside her. She trusted him, but yet she didn’t, but in her deepest self, she did. Every thought in her head told her she did the honorable thing restricting him to the library, but her gut and her heart told her he should be here. But Defurge was here, that was something, right?
The idea of confronting a dangerous enemy with an untested variable was not pleasing. Issaroh refused to fight, being a magus like Miro. Issaroh worried that he could lose control and endanger others around him. Clara had been… Well, she had been difficult ever since their battle with Defurge. It was like she was trying to get into an argument with Bronwyn every time they chanced conversation. It was unlike her.