Our Little Gods 2: GOLDRAC, Of the Old Gods.

Chapter 17.

"We were not enough. There seems nothing else we could do.  There was no way we could face the enemy and her armies as she was passing through the Gate." So, Fenelon cast them away. Simple as that.

 He sent them as far away as he could think of. I stood and watched as they flickered between the pillars of the Gate and were whisked away instantly. 

"I think I saw the face of the Enemy herself as she stood in the Gate and found her army wasn't there. It was a beautiful face. Somehow sweet and I remembered her power. The power of seduction. One glance was all she needed to turn the hearts of the most dedicated assassins. Whole nations, it was said, back there on the other world, had come to wage war on her, to destroy her and found themselves guarding the gates of her realm the next day, thinking it perfectly normal. Seduction, such a powerful tool. Now she was here. Far away, yes, but here, in our world, all the same." Fenelon though as he spun his spells regretting that it wasn't Agardi himself that was here to do that.

Oneg took T'tebera's hand in his and brought it to his lips so he could kiss her fingers. He couldn't refrain from kissing her of late. As if time was short. He looked into her calm eyes. He could see the waters of the Wide Sea that surrounds the Isle of Forts, in her eyes today, where she was born. In the grey depth, there was peace and immense strength. Oneg needed that. 

She knew. 

They had received the warning that scouts guarding the Talvar gate had seen people crossing that very morning. Balà it turned out, that could only mean her. So they had taken all the manpower they had and walked the short distance to the gate's plateau and stood there waiting.

As T'tebera stood by, watching him bring her arrow fingers to his lips, she could sense his whole being vibrating with the love he bore her. She had also seen the face of the enemy. She had looked her straight in the eyes, instinctually loosening her longbow shoulder ready for the shot, would it present itself, of course, she remembered what all the men had said. 

"The enemy cannot be killed by conventional weapons." So, what about it; there was no harm in trying, was what she thought. 

 After running for so long from her, across another world, risking all and crossing the portal to this one, they had believed they were safe. But there she was. Again. Blowing her foul breath down their necks, and they were nowhere nearer discovering the purpose of the Three... behind some door in the mountain, under a lake of ice, inside the slumbering city of the ever servants Maasil was conversing with an awakened sleeper in a language no one else understood with no guarantee he or she would be of any real help. Maasil would never stop until he forced the knowledge from the carved stones and the scrolls, she knew, she just had to wait and then it would be her turn to do what she knew best. And when all was done, when the Three had served their purpose here, they will go back to Rabatea, go back to Oneg's Tall House and they will rebuild it. It would be their Tall House, protect and serve the people of the land, make the pilgrim's roads safe and keep the kings off the councils. She liked that.  Slowly rotating on the ball of her feet, she turned to face the warlock. The Fenelon boy, 'odd sort' she thought. He seems weak, always on the verge of tears, yet the power he was working was so strong that the air around him shimmered and the grass seems to die at his feet as if singed. She had never seen a man doing something like that: transporting thousands of men to another place. And he seemed about to fall down, drenched in sweat and shaking like a possessed crone. But his magic was working. 

At the very moment the Veviensis arrived in Goldrac, Gerrek started feeling the pull of servitude. The call of Anagh and he knows that every single Rebunte in the City of Ice can feel it too. It is as if all fibers of his being are vibrating with the pull of the creature of the Goddess. He knows that most of his brothers will go to her and they will fight for her if she asks them to. He knows he must warn the armies of the alliance but he is paralyzed by the conflict tearing his soul and body apart. It is almost as if his mind and his essence were suddenly at odds with each other. He can feel the part vibrating in harmony with the pull of the semi-god, it gives him such joy, such contentment, it gives him a purpose, focus. There is a universe of joy in this, the promise of reconciliation with himself, his brothers; of being relevant, guided and guiding.