Goddess Liv Savell (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

Enyo now. Only what she was before the basin. And from where I stand, she is nowhere nearly as dangerous as her son. Mascen—we have to warn our people! Enyo is a child having a tantrum, Mascen is a true God, tearing apart our home.”

Swallowing, feeling her chest tightening with the rush of shouting, Meirin turned away from Etienne and Delyth and started taking down her tent. This was ludicrous. They had no weapons; Mascen had ruined Delyth’s sword and taken her spear. Etienne could barely do rudimentary rune magic.

They needed an army. They needed more bows and spears.

They needed a plan that was more than just “find the artifacts, stop the Gods, hope Mascen doesn’t destroy Thloegr.”

“And what do you propose we do when there are three Mascens? Or five or ten?” Delyth demanded, standing up so quickly that she turned over the pot of porridge, spilling the thick grain into the fire. “While we run off to let people know about the one God, the situation would be getting far worse.”

“Or better!” Meirin turned on Delyth.

Delyth took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm herself, to control her anger. “Look, if you’ve given up, then go. Run along home and tell your people about Mascen so you can all huddle together and hope he doesn’t come. I’m going to Esha’s temple to get her artifact and stop the Gods from becoming any more powerful.”

Meirin couldn’t just return to Mynydd Gwyllt. Not alone. If she returned by herself, spouting frantic warnings about dangerous Old Gods, she’d be dishonored. She had been ordered by her War Chief to assist Delyth and Etienne. To find Gethin and bring him back, safe. If Delyth and Etienne went on without her, and she returned alone… No one would believe what she had to say, and she would be considered a coward—a title worse than murderer to some.

“Maoz didn’t seem dangerous or deranged—Only your Goddess. Perhaps having the Gods back would be better! If you haven’t noticed, it’s not as if Thloegr is thriving. His people—” Meirin jabbed her finger towards Etienne, who was watching uncomfortably, “ still have their Gods, and they are doing just fine! Not broken into clans always at each other’s throats, struggling to tend to their farms.”

“Enyo had her good moments too,” Delyth snarled, her voice suddenly very dark. “Quiet moments spent gazing at the moon or wildflowers. Sometimes all she wanted was to sit with Tristan or eat good food and look up at the stars. Then, the next day she would set the side of a mountain on fire, call a three-day blizzard on a summer morning, or yank the still-beating heart out of a poor farmer’s chest and try to force me to eat it. And all of that was before she had control of Alphonse’s body. Mascen is her son. Do you really want to face more of him? Gods more powerful still?”

The truth of Delyth’s words struck Meirin and irritated her more, though her retorts died in her throat.

As badly as she wanted to go back to her clan and warn her friends and family… if the other Gods were as mad as Mascen seemed to be…

Her anger was fading as quickly as it had sprung up, leaving her hollow and mute. With an insulting jut of her chin, Meirin resumed tearing down her tent and stowing it in her bag.

Delyth turned away. “I’m going to look around. To make sure we don’t run into any of them. I hope you’ll have come to a decision by the time I get back.”

And with that, she leaped into the air with a few thrusts of great, black wings, leaving Etienne alone with Meirin. “What are you going to do?” he asked after a long moment.

“Pack my tent,” she replied as if that was what Etienne was asking. She knew full well it was not. He wanted to know what she would do once Delyth came back. What she would do when the time came. Continue on their original quest, or run back to her people to warn them of the unspeakable dangers arising in Thloegr.

And truthfully, she didn’t know what she would do. One way, she felt like a coward, the other a fool.

“Is it better to be foolish or gutless?” Meirin asked, pausing in her furious packing to stare at Etienne across the fire. Breakfast spilled in the embers, where Delyth had left it to burn. Her attempt to prove she had ‘spoken’ to Alphonse.

Which was impossible. Wasn’t it?

✶

Etienne watched her at a loss for a long moment, uncertain. Which path was foolish and which gutless? Neither continuing trying to stop Enyo or trying to convince the Mynydd Gwyllt would be easy routes to take, and though he saw the faults with both, neither seemed purely foolish either.

It all depended, he supposed, on what you were trying to do: survive the situation as it was or keep it from getting any worse.

There wasn’t any guarantee of a good outcome either way.

“I don’t think that’s the right question,” he said, still standing stiff and useless. “I don’t think loyalty to your people is cowardice, no matter what Delyth says. But then, neither do I think stopping the Old Gods is foolish.”

Foolhardy, maybe, but that was beside the point.

Meirin’s gaze held Etienne’s for a moment longer before her mouth twisted in a smirk. “So you stand in the middle? The wise mage, seeing both paths—how Ingolan of you. But you didn’t answer my question. Which is worse? Cowardice or stupidity?—I would suspect a man of education would say stupidity, but you’re not much for war either, are you?”

With her packing completed, Meirin dropped her bag containing the tent and swallowed down the rest of her tea.

Etienne considered her question a moment, swirling the contents of his near-empty teacup around, so that leaves swept up its dented sides. “Once I would have said that stupidity was the worse option, but I’ve since changed my mind.” Etienne put