Chapter Text
The two travelers rested under a large apple tree. They were halfway to where Raskska should be, and already Jalala's legs wanted to give out. She tried to convince herself that Aym wasn't tired because his legs were much longer, so he covered more ground with each step, but in reality, she knew it was because she didn't possess the stamina he did.
At least the grey-green clouds over her head blocked the sun enough that she didn't overheat as well. She wondered if it would rain soon. It had been raining a lot near Anchordeep, so she had heard.
Aym reached the crescent moon blade of his staff into the branches of the tree. With a quick movement, he cut down a couple of apples from their stems. Before they hit the ground, he held out his robes and caught them.
He offered one of the apples to her.
"I've never seen a staff like that," Jalala remarked, hoping the more time they talked, the more she could rest. "It looks...magical."
Jalala knew of the magic that ran wild in these lands, but it seemed only those who had close affiliation with the divine could accomplish such feats, and yet there was something about Aym's staff that gave it a holy feeling--as if the engravings on the blade were blessed.
Aym rubbed the shining side of the blade with his wrist.
"You could say that. I used to be able to do all sorts of spells before," he trailed off, then shook himself once "Never mind. It doesn't matter now." He frowned at the reflection in the blade. Regret seemed to weigh down on him.
Jalala focused her attention on her apple. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset."
Aym made a strangled sound. "What? No! I'm not upset." He laughed to cover up his embarrassment. "Actually, you reminded me of what skills I need to hone again. I must ask my master to give me some more training once this festival is over." He jabbed his staff high, knocking leaves and twigs from the canopy.
Jalala took a tentative bite of the apple and tried not to wince. The flesh was hard and sour, but it had been nice of Aym to get it for her, so she forced herself to chew and swallow the bite of unripe fruit.
"So, once the festival is over, you'll leave to go visit your master?" Jalala asked, hiding the apple in the grass and the disappointment in her voice.
Aym took a large bite out of his own apple. He stiffened before spitting it out. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and then tossed the apple away.
"No, my master, he's at the cult grounds," Aym explained. His tail swished against the grass behind him. "Getting him to train me again, though, will be a challenge..." he pursed his lips and winced.
Whom could his master be, then? Jalala didn't know anyone else who could be strong enough and well-versed in magic to be his master.
It was clearly not The Lamb. He didn't seem to like them, for some reason. Maybe his master had passed away, and that was why he didn't want to talk about him. Aym would have to ask The Lamb to bring him back to life.
Jalala had never asked The Lamb to bring back anyone to life, but she imagined it must be a difficult question.
Jalala brushed the back of her robes as she stood. Kicking the apple into the taller grass, she said, "We should keep going. We need to make it back before dark."
Aym would never be ashamed of his past. So what if he had lost years of his life in the living world after he was gifted to his master? He had been the servant to the most powerful god in existence! He learned magic and spells that most mortals could only dream of. He possessed the raw strength to defend his master from any threat!
Or, almost any.
He was not ashamed, and yet he still didn't like to talk about his time in The Gateway.
His childhood before and his life after, he had no issues telling tales.
Those many years spent by his master's side, however, made his tongue heavy.
"I think it's because no one else would understand it," Baal had said once. "No one else in the whole world has had a life like ours."
Aym hadn't ever tried to tell anyone, but he had been with Baal when he did. Aym didn't know what made him more angry, the disbelieving looks or the pitiful ones his brother received.
A pang hit his chest. Those expressions--he didn't want to see them on Jalala's pretty face.
As they walked silently along the path towards the mantis shrimp's restaurant, he felt his stomach twist into knots.
He shouldn't care what she thinks about his past, but he did. He wished he had asked Master more about this feeling. Master would know how to dispel this dreadful ache in his chest crushing him when he thought about Jalala thinking he was lying about his past.
A thought hit him, and it nearly made him stumble over his feet. That was it. This feeling? It was what people called "a crush", wasn't it?
He had never had a crush. There wasn't time to waste on feelings like that when heretics still worshiped those blasphemous Bishops instead of The Red Crown.
He made a mental note to question his wise master about this when he returned.
Jalala held out her hand, stopping Aym. "Um, look?"
Aym shook himself from his thoughts and followed her gaze to a few posts sticking out of the ground near the edge of a ravine. As the two carefully neared, it became clear the posts were what remained of a bridge. Only a few planks and a bit of rope dangled down into the ravine.
Jalala poked at the fraying rope. "What now?" She craned her neck to the side, looking for an end to the opening in the earth, but the ravine went on until it disappeared into the horizon on either side.
The ravine was wide, sure, but Aym was certain he could jump it fairly easily. Then how would Jalala get across? He was supposed to be her guard. He couldn't just leave her alone.
What if I carried her? He thought.
He could imagine it: the warmth of her body against his as he held her tight to his chest while he leaped heroically over the ravine and landed with grace on the other side. She would have to think he was braver and cooler than that usurper. Maybe she would even feel so safe that he would be allowed to carry her the rest of the way.
He opened his mouth to make the offer when his master's cryptic advice rang in his ears: "Remember what I told you. Look before you leap, child."
Yes, Master was right. He needed to think carefully before he attempted something that could cause her to get hurt, even if he really liked the idea of her pressed against him.
Aym walked tentatively to the edge and peered down.
It wasn't that deep, twice as tall as Aym was, and had a trickle of water flowing through it. Both sides of the ravine weren't so steep that it would be difficult to scramble up.
"We have to go down and climb back up."
Jalala cringed. "Maybe we can find another bridge," she suggested. "I don't like the idea of climbing down there."
Aym snorted and, with one quick leap, hopped into the ravine. He planted his staff into the ground before he spun around and held out his arms to her. He might be able to get to hold her after all.
"There is nothing to worry about. Let me help you down," he offered, flashing her a smile. Jalala wore a countenance of uncertainty. He raised himself on his toes towards her to coax her into his arms.
"Well..." Jalala pursed her lips, resting a hand on the wooden post from the bridge. She let out a breath and took a step towards the edge when the ground began to rumble.
From farther up in the ravine came a roaring and tremors. The two snapped their heads towards it in time to see a deluge of frothing, brown water tearing down the ravine, ripping earth and scraggly bushes from the sides.
"Hurry! Get back up here!" Jalala shouted, holding out her hands for him.
Grabbing his staff, Aym started to scramble up, but the earth along the sides was softer than he'd expected. His foot sunk deep every step he took. Even his staff proved only marginally useful in helping his accent.
The flash flood charged at Aym like the many angry beasts he'd fought, but this was a monster he had no way to defend from.
Halfway up the ravine, he used his staff to propel himself forward. He grabbed hold of Jalala's wrist just as the water swept away his staff from the soft dirt. The churning water grabbed at his tail as he tried to plant his feet on the side.
A piece of debris caught his dangling foot and nearly wrenched him out of Jalala's grasp. She let out a cry of pain, bracing herself against the post from the broken bridge.
Aym looked up at Jalala and then at the water rising higher and higher towards him.
"Let me go!" He ordered.
"What? No! You'll drown!" Jalala tightened her grip on his wrist.
"I will be fine! I've died before, in a way that hurt way more than this will," Aym shouted over the raging flood.
She sucked in a gasp, and Aym realized he said the wrong thing.
"You what—I—err!" Jalala shook her head. "No! I am not letting you go! How can I ask you to dance with me at the festival if you're a corpse?"
For a heartbeat, Aym forgot about the water rushing past his ankles and the peril he was in. Dance? She wanted to dance with him?!
With newfound vigor, Aym tried again to plant his feet against the muddy side as Jalala looked worriedly up the ravine.
He wished he hadn't lost his staff. Why didn't he try to hook the blade into the posts when he had the chance? Not that it mattered now. The link between his holy weapon and his heart weakened the farther away it went.
If only he was as strong as he used to be! He could magically summon his staff to his hand!
But he wasn't. He couldn't use the ether between worlds to teleport or summon constructs to help.
He couldn't do anything!
How had he not realized how weak he had become?
Jalala gritted her teeth. The flood waters were up to his knees now. Debris tore at his lower legs as bits and pieces of rock and sticks rushed by, leaving his skin bruised and riddled with cuts.
He could not allow her to be stolen away by the water with him. He'd greeted the numbness of death before. He could do it again.
Aym slapped his hand over the one Jalala held his wrist with. He slipped his fingers under hers to pry his arm free.
"What are you doing?! Stop!"
Before Aym could call out an apology, he started to fall into the angry water. He braced himself for the impact of the water throwing him like a toy against the debris, but it never came. Instead, he felt a sharp pull against the scruff of his neck. He instinctively went limp as someone hauled him out of the water and dropped him on the ground.
A familiar person in warm, red-plaid clothes wrapped him in a tight hug. The pounding of his heart quieted instantly as his mother's soothing scent curled as tightly around him as her arms did.
"Oh, my sweet boy!" Mother patted his back. "What danger you were in!"
Aym turned his head against his mother's chest to see Baal helping Jalala to her feet. She took a shaky step only to fall to her knees, holding her shoulder.
"Jalala!" He reached out towards her but froze a second later.
His heart fell to his stomach, as she glared at him with blue eyes filled with tears.
"Mace is the outside of nutmeg," Ms. Forneus said as she handed Jalala a cup of tea. Jalala reached out for the hot cup with her good arm. Though Ms. Forneus was able to pop her shoulder back into its socket, her arm still ached. She sipped the tea, refusing to look up from the cup.
"If I have some, I shall share with our blessed Lamb." Ms. Forneus smiled, bright like the sun after a rainstorm, as she rubbed Jalala's back. Jalala didn't understand how someone so mean and rude as Aym could come from a mother as sweet and kind as Ms. Forneus. It just didn't seem possible!
She rested carefully back against the canvas of the caravan. At least, thanks to Ms. Forneus' kindness, she didn't have to worry about failing The Lamb. Jalala met her reflection's gaze in the tea.
This was all her fault for being flippant with her feelings. Her heart belonged to The Lamb. They saved her from sacrifice. They gave her a safe home. They reunited her with her brother. They would never be so cruel to her.
She scowled at the cup before taking a large gulp. The tea burned her throat, and she welcomed the punishment.
The flap on the caravan opened, and Baal crawled in. He set Aym's wet robes down before picking up another, this one the same white and red as Baal's own.
"Once he is clothed, call your brother in," his mother told him. "Tea will warm him."
Jalala wished Aym would stay outside. He deserved it for what he did...
A moment later, Aym and Baal crawled into the heat of the caravan. Aym, garbed in Baal's clothes now, raised his hand at her to greet her with a half smile. She glared at him. He furrowed his brows as he sat. He crossed his long legs, exposing the many nicks and cuts on them.
For a heartbeat, she felt bad for him. If she had been stronger, she could have pulled him up.
The moment of sympathy passed quickly.
Baal settled down next to Ms. Forneus, his long legs crossed.
"So," he held out the vowel, "you're Jalala, right? I'm Baal. Mother has mentioned you once or twice before."
"Yes, Ms. Forneus helped me and my friend when we were searching for my brother and Paradise," Jalala muttered. She already gave her story of danger and wonder to one of the cat brothers recently. She didn't have the energy to give it to the other.
"Did you find him? And what about Paradise?" Baal clasped his hands in his lap and swayed playfully back and forth.
"She did, and Paradise is The Lamb's cult," Aym answered for her.
She bristled. How rude this jerk was! She could answer on her own!
"The Lamb's cult is Paradise, huh?" Baal mused. "I guess I can see that."
"It'd be a real paradise under Master's command," Aym grumbled, more to himself than to the other three present. His mother shot him a disproving look, and Baal rolled his eyes. Aym's ears flattened against his head. He sipped his tea, not looking up.
"Tell me about this festival." Baal leaned forward. "What is it for? When Aym and I stayed there, I don't remember a festival this time of year."
"Uh, I guess it's an old sheep festival," Jalala mumbled, wishing this time Aym had answered for her.
The festival was a tradition from her Leader's culture. A festival to celebrate a holy martyr who gave up their life in defense of a long-forgotten deity whom The Lamb said they were certain was a Bearer of the Red Crown before them. When The Lamb announced the festival, they said it had been so long they couldn't remember the martyr's name, but they remembered the festival being great fun with feasting, games, and joyful dances, so they were repurposing the date.
Jalala gripped her cup tightly in shaking hands.
"Oh, that sounds fun. I like learning about other cultures. It's too bad so much of The Lamb's is gone," Baal continued. "I've heard sheep had quite the tradition of weaving. I got to see a sheep-woven blanket once on my travels. It was lovely. It depicted two young lovers dancing--"
Jalala slammed her cup down. Despite Ms. Forneus' protests, she rushed past Aym and Baal to the entrance of the caravan and leaped down. With a burst of energy, she ran.
Her throbbing shoulder, tear-stung eyes, and aching legs didn't compare at all to the pain in her heart. She heard footsteps storming behind her and her name being called, but she ignored it.
Get away! Get away! Get away! Get--
Jalala jerked back when someone grabbed the wrist of her bad arm. She cried out in pain as she fell against warm, soft wool.
The Lamb looked down at her with worried eyes. She wrapped her arms around her leader and wept into their chest.
"Oh, Lamb! I'm sorry I wasn't able to get the mace and c-c--" Jalala whimpered, her words blurring into choked sobs. "Th-there was a flood, and, and Aym, he--"
The Lamb stroked the back of her head and soothed, "Jalala, hush, hush, it's alright now. You're safe. I'm here. I'll always be here for you."
Aym buried his head in his arms as he sat with the shadow of The Lamb's temple looming over him like a disappointed parent. The day's preparations had wound down, and everyone headed towards bed so they could be well rested for the festival, but Aym couldn't force himself to be excited for tomorrow.
Everything had fallen apart with Jalala, and he wasn't even sure how! She wanted to dance with him one second, and the next she glared daggers at him! He didn't get it, not at all.
Why was this all so confusing?!
Aym curled himself into a tighter ball.
When Jalala ran away, he hadn't been able to catch up to her. His legs hurt too much from the impact of debris during the flood. Baal, however, was able to catch up to her, just in time to see The Lamb pop out of the ether between worlds and grab her.
Jalala had been too upset to explain about the flash flood or Aym's rescue from death, but Baal had been able to give a recap of the basics. The Lamb took Jalala back to the cult grounds themself, but suggested that Aym would do better traveling with his brother and mother there.
Aym didn't know where Jalala's shelter was, so he couldn't find her to ask what was wrong. Even if he did know, Mother had told him he had best leave her be for a little while. Why couldn't relationships be like battle? Face his foe and tackle the issue straight forward and head-on!
"Aym," Baal said, tapping his shoulder. "Look alive. Lord Narinder is coming towards you, and he does not appear happy."
Aym's head jerked up. As Baal had claimed, Master marched towards him, his face set in a scowl. Aym scrambled to his feet, standing straight back. Master must be here to reprimand him about losing his staff. Aym wanted to go find it after Jalala had been taken away, but Baal dragged him back to Mother's caravan with the promise they would go search for it after the festival.
Master's mouth set in a firm, thin line. He narrowed his eyes at Aym as his tail lashed against the grass.
"What did you do?" He demanded to know.
"Lord Narinder," Baal cut in, putting a reassuring hand on Aym's shoulder, "please, understand, there was a flood, and--"
"I did not ask you," Master snapped, making Baal jerk back his hand. "I asked him. Aym, speak."
Aym's ears pressed against his skull. "I'm sorry. There was a flood. I didn't mean to lose my staff. I promise I will get it back soon."
Master held up a hand. "Staff? I don't give a damn about your staff. I meant what happened with the little bear girl. She came back without you, crying her eyes out. The Lamb was coated with mucus." He cringed.
"I don't know," Aym answered honestly. "I don't know why she's mad at me." His shoulders fell. He looked down at the tail that wrapped around his feet.
Master pinched the bridge of his nose. "By The First Ones..." He muttered, then ordered, louder, "Tell me what happened exactly, from when you left the grounds to when you returned."
Aym did exactly as ordered, from meeting up with Jalala at the entrance to stopping under the apple tree to following Master's advice to the flash flood, to Mother saving them, and finally to Jalala getting upset and running off.
Narinder dragged his hands down his face with a groan. "Oh, child, I know you spent a long time with your only company being your brother, I, and the occasional vessel, but that should not have made you this socially inept."
Aym stiffened at the criticism, his cheeks heating up, while Baal chuckled behind his hand.
"Do you know what I did to make her upset?"
Master scoffed. "Of course, I do. You took her chance at being the hero."
Baal tilted his head and twitched his ear. "Is that why?" He almost sounded like he didn't believe in Master's answer. Of course, that couldn't be true. Master was never wrong.
"What else could it be?" He crossed his arms, daring Baal to counter him. When Baal remained silent, he went on, "Mortals love to play the hero, especially if being the hero means they can show off. I've seen it countless times."
"Uh-huh..." Baal muttered to himself.
Aym flicked his brother's ankle with his tail. Master was right! Jalala wanted to show off how strong she was and be a hero for saving him from the flood! How could Aym be so blind?
Master pointed a finger at Aym. "Just apologize to her, and she will come around, I'm sure."
Aym nodded enthusiastically. He grasped Master's hands and bowed deeply at the waist.
"Thank you, Master! You are truly the wisest person here!"
"Lucky for the two of you, your years of devoted service left me mildly invested in your happiness." Master took his hands back. He added a beat later, "Also, I'm not your master. Stop calling me that." but Aym didn't hear him.
Aym had a plan to follow now! He would rush to Jalala and tell her it was all ok! She didn't need to play the hero for him. He was strong enough for both of them! Then she would want to hug him, and at the festival, they would play games and eat yummy food and dance!
"I'll go apologize for taking her moment to be a hero right now!" Aym announced. He started to run towards the gathering of shelters before Baal snatched the back of his robes. He landed with a thud on his back, staring up at the darkened night sky.
"Thank you, Baal," Master nodded in approval. "Apologize tomorrow. She is probably sleeping now, and it is best not to wake a sleeping bear."
The Lamb crossed out 'by my holy light' from their notes. They had been so caught up in preparing for the festival that they had not yet completed the speech they planned to give in the morning. It would have been easier if they could remember what the elders had said for the festival back when they were young, but they hadn't paid attention to such things in their youth. There were games to play, food to eat, and friends to dance with.
Maybe if The Lamb could remember the martyr whose honor the festival was held, they could have looked into it, but even that had faded throughout their godhood. Only the joyful memories of time spent with friends and family remained.
They covered their forgotten history with a lie that the martyr died in defense of The Red Crown bearer before them. Though Narinder had called their fib out after the sermon as he claimed he would have certainly remembered another sheep besides The Lamb willing to die in his name.
The Lamb set their paper aside with a sigh. Maybe they would just wing it. That worked for many of their impromptu sermons.
"Lamb," Narinder greeted with a nod as he strolled into their tent.
"You didn't even bother to announce yourself first." The Lamb shook their head. "The Crown isn't even decent." They gestured to The Red Crown, resting on a small pillow beside them. It opened its eye, and glanced at Narinder, before closing it again.
"I have seen The Crown in states you could never imagine." Narinder sniffed. He let the tent flap fall closed behind him as he walked over. Without any warning, he snatched the blanket The Lamb had over their legs and wrapped it around himself.
"I spoke with Aym. He told me what happened. I told him to apologize," he said as he dropped down to sit between their legs. He scooted so his head rested on their stomach then sprawled his legs out, kicking over the books The Lamb had been skimming for ideas.
The Lamb rolled their eyes, setting their pen aside with the paper. Impromptu sermon it was then.
Narinder yawned. "Your scheme has been righted in its course, thanks to me."
"Our scheme." They corrected with a sigh of relief.
Ever since Jalala explained what happened, they had been wondering if they should step in and fix the matter themself. In their opinion, Aym did not need to apologize for what happened. It was a simple miscommunication of intentions, but if Aym and Jalala were to be together, as The Lamb and Narinder planned, the two youths would have to learn to solve their misunderstandings on their own.
Though The Lamb did tell her to consider that Aym hadn't meant to upset her.
Jalala had sniffled and whispered, "Maybe...but it doesn't matter. He led my heart astray from you. I don't want to see him ever again."
The Lamb had put a sympathetic smile on their face as they patted her back. "My dear child, any feelings you have for a mortal will never compare to your devotion to me. I know that, so you need never worry about it."
The comforting words seemed to help her inner turmoil somewhat. The Lamb then handed her off to Yarlen so she could eat and rest up after the day's misadventures.
The Lamb leaned back against the pillow behind them. Even if they didn't need to sleep, Narinder's body was warm against them, and once he started purring, their eyes would slip shut and they would drift off, like always.
"Fine, our scheme." Narinder mumbled, adjusting to a more comfortable position. "Mmm, so soft...."
"And by my holy light, shall all see the glory of The Red Crown and hail The Lamb as Lord Death, Master of This World and the Next," The Lamb raised their arms, and the crowd cheered.
Baal clapped his hands as Aym fidgeted beside him. The night before, Aym stayed up late, rehearsing what he would say to his friend to earn her forgiveness. Baal had to force him to lie down and sleep by reminding him that if he was tired, he might mess up his apology.
Aym swiveled his head around. Mother put a hand on his shoulder, both to calm him and to keep him from running off before The Lamb finished.
While Aym had paced and practiced, Baal and Mother had discussed the situation where Aym couldn't hear. They both agreed that Lord Narinder's assumption that Jalala wanted to play hero didn't seem quiet right, but neither of them could think of a better answer.
Mother had suggested she was just upset that Aym was willing to leave her with a burden of guilt for not being strong enough to help him. From the short interaction Baal had with Jalala, that seemed more reasonable than her wanting to be Aym's hero.
Baal didn't dare try to tell that to Aym, though. His younger brother still believed their old master to be infallible. What Lord Narinder said must be truth, as it had always been.
As The Lamb continued their sermon, Baal turned his attention to Lord Narinder standing beside them. His eyes were shut. Was he asleep standing up there? Unlike Baal, Lord Narinder had heard many more of The Lamb's sermons and speeches. He must find them boring to listen to.
Baal wished The Lamb would let Lord Narinder do a sermon. Lord Narinder's sermons had been glorious and rousing things that made the crowds cheer so loud that the earth shook, or so he had been told.
As The Lamb mentioned something about respecting the past and those who came before, Lord Narinder opened his eyes to roll them. He was awake, at least. Beside him, the shrew disciple sent him a nasty glare, which went ignored.
"And now, may a blessing be upon all of my flock this glorious festival day!" The Lamb threw a curse into the air. It burst in a show of sparks, captivating their followers with loud 'ooo's and 'aaah's.
The Lamb turned, about to step down from the stage, when they stopped, spun around, and clapped their hands once, regaining the crowd's attention.
"One more thing, if anyone so much as dares murder someone because they think it will be funny or for any other reason," The Lamb began, their Crown morphing into a monstrous shape as their eyes bled red and fangs grew in their mouth, "they shall be the next vessel used in the sinner's pride ritual and have the whole of their souls consumed by the sin of their peers. I shall not offer any forgiveness this time."
They hopped back, returned to their normal, nonthreatening form, and chirped, "That's all. Have a wonderful time everyone!"
The second The Lamb left the stage, Aym bolted away to search for Jalala. Baal shook his head at his brother's eagerness. He understood not wanting a friend to be upset with him, but he had a hard time wrapping his head around Aym caring that much about this girl.
Baal knew of crushes, and in his travels, he had made friends who had crushes on him, but he had never had any himself. He was fine with friendships and had little desire for romance. He had tried to feel those feelings while on his wanderings. He went on dates and spent time with the people who had crushes on him, but nothing ever came from them. He just couldn't feel that kind of affection for anyone.
Baal assumed, until recently, that Aym felt the same, though they never discussed it. Aym focused his attention on battle and defeating beasts and heretics. Unlike Baal, maybe Aym just had never had the time to consider romantic feelings, until he spent time with Jalala.
Baal wondered if he should follow along, just in case Aym started to mess up again.
As if reading his mind, Mother chuckled. "Go look after him."
After giving Mother a half hug, Baal hurried in the direction Aym had run off in.
The crowd made it difficult to navigate. Elbows mashed into his side, and people stomped on his feet in their rush to participate in the festival's activities. Luckily, Baal and Aym inherited their mother's height and stood at least a head above the rest of the crowd.
Aym had just popped out the other side of a throng of followers. He dusted off his robes and then stood on his toes to look around for Jalala. Aym raised his hand and began to shout when a blue blur tackled him.
Baal choked on a gasp. His training instincts kicked in, and all tact and manners were pushed to the side, just like the people in his way between him and his brother.
"Aym!" Baal cried when he caught up.
Aym threw up dust and grass as he wrestled with the blue skunk wrapped around his waist. She held tight to his middle with her arms and his upper legs with her legs. Aym raised his fist, about to hit the girl, but Baal dove and grabbed his arm.
The two of them were strong, stronger than most mortals realized, and if Aym wasn't careful, he could accidentally hurt this girl, or if she was particularly weak, kill her.
They had come across those people consumed by sin before. The damned soul writhed in pain and agony, trying to drag others down with it into death or depravity. He couldn't risk his brother the same fate.
"Release me, skunk!" Aym ordered, trying to pry her arms off him, but she dug her fingers into her locked arms.
"No! Not if you are going to bother Jalala!" She snapped. "I never doubt the Leader. I know they're never wrong, but this just isn't the right time!"
"Let me go!" He pushed on her shoulders as Baal pulled at her middle. "I need to apologize!"
"Apologies mean nothing coming from someone like you, heartbreaker!"
A group of onlookers gaped at the scene. Baal shot a sharp, threatening glare at them. Just because this mess happened in public didn't mean the public had a right to judge them!
This girl stuck to Aym like tree sap. Her actions didn't make any sense! Clearly, this girl was Jalala's friend. Why wouldn't she want Aym to apologize? Aym apologizing would make Jalala feel better!
Aym gritted his teeth. Baal knew Aym was considering if he could get away with one small punch. Baal had to think fast. He couldn't risk Aym getting in trouble, but no matter how hard they pushed or pulled or pried, this girl wouldn't budge.
An idea struck Baal.
Baal pressed his fingers under the girl's arms and started tickling. Her eyes widened, and she puffed out her cheeks. Snorts escaped her nose, and Baal knew he was winning.
He continued to tickle her underarms and sides until the girl burst out in laughter. Her grip loosened for the briefest of seconds, but that was all Aym needed to slip out of her grasp. He rolled to his feet.
The girl, tears in her eyes, reached out and gasped, "No! Stop!" at the same time as Baal shouted, "Go! Go!", but Aym didn't need the encouragement to bolt away.
The girl thrashed against the ground, beating weakly at Baal's chest with her fists.
"No more! No more! Please! S-stop!" She pleaded.
"Not until you promise to leave my brother alone."
"I-I can't!" She grabbed at his arms, trying to push him away. "I can't let him hurt Jalala again!"
Baal tickled her belly. "He's not trying to hurt her. He wants to apologize for taking away her heroic moment."
"That's-That's not what he did."
Baal froze, his fingers just above her stomach. He frowned at her.
"Isn't it?"
Had Mother been right? Baal couldn't say he was fully surprised. Mother would know matters of the heart better than Lord Narinder.
The girl sat up, holding herself around the stomach. She glared daggers at him.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "Please, tell me what Aym did. He honestly doesn't know."
The girl eyed him warily, then heaved a sigh and shook her head. She muttered something about 'idiot boys' under her breath before facing Baal to explain.
"Thanks, Disciple Lena," Yarlen said about the extra slice of cake she gave him. He knew it was a pity slice. The moment he walked up, she wrinkled her nose; the scent of dead fish still clung to his fur. Rinor had found him a necklace of beads made from fragrant camilla flowers. They had hoped it would cover the smell, but the beads did nothing for a sharp-nose shrew like Disciple Lena.
Yarlen balanced the cake slices, two in hand and one on his arm, as he worked his way through the crowd towards where his sibling glumly sat on a log bench. Rinor suggested he and Jalala head to the feast table first thing when Leader ended their sermon while she scouted around for that terrible Aym.
Save for the elderly and children, no one but those who worked the tables or games were allowed to eat before the festival began, so the long tables of savory foods and soups were packed with hungry followers. Disciple Lena stood marshal by the kitchen where the dessert foods were to make sure no one took more than two of any of the goodies before everyone had a chance to swing by.
Jalala slumped, her gaze fixed on her feet. The usual glow in her eyes faded by the time Leader returned her to Yarlen the evening before. She collapsed against him and clung to his robes, whimpering how she had one of the worst days of her life.
That vile Aym! He better count his lucky stars Yarlen hadn't been there, or Yarlen would have given him what-for!
"Here," Yarlen said, offering her the slice on his arm. Jalala took the cake with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. He placed the extra slice beside his sister before taking a seat himself.
Yarlen bit into the soft cake and let out an exaggerated moan of delight.
"So good! I know it's a little early for cake, but it is a party." Yarlen raised his cake for a toast. Jalala's slice of cake stayed put in her lap. He cleared his throat. Jalala blushed when she noticed the raised cake slice.
She tapped her bowl against his with a forced smile.
"Yeah, I guess." She sighed. "Sorry. I'm not in the mood for cake right now. My stomach aches..."
A stomach ache had been Jalala's go-to excuse since they were children. If she didn't want to go to the temple, her stomach ached. If she didn't want to talk to someone, her stomach ached. If she wanted to get out of chores in the fields, her stomach ached.
Luckily, Yarlen knew just how to handle her stomach aches.
He set his cake slice beside the extra one and hopped to his feet.
"No, it's my mistake. We're not kids anymore. We need something healthy to absorb the sugar in our stomachs first." He patted her shoulder. "Stay put. I'll get us some soup. It'll help with your tummy troubles too." He winked at her, and she shamefully looked away.
Yarlen wracked his brain as he headed towards the feast tables. He had to figure out a way to make Jalala feel better. He couldn't let some random tomcat who had to gall to leave Paradise ruin the festival for Jalala.
"...seen Jalala?"
Yarlen froze at the sound of his sister's name. He swung his head towards the source. His heart dropped to his feet.
Talking to one of the kitchen helpers, loomed a tall, dark-furred cat with a long, deep scar across one blind eye.
Aym! That had to be him. He was looking for Jalala--no doubt to rub his disrespect in her face. Yarlen's blood boiled with righteous rage for his sister.
No, no way in hell would he let this feline hurt Jalala anymore! He would put a stop to this once and for all!
Before the kitchen helper could point out where Jalala sat, Yarlen marched up, his chest puffed out and shoulders square. Sure, Aym stood nearly head and shoulders taller than him, but the grannies in his village always said Yarlen was scrappy! He wasn't scared of some overgrown kitty-cat.
"Hey! You!" He jabbed a surprised Aym in the chest with his finger. "Leave Jalala alone!"
Aym narrowed his eyes and slapped Yarlen's hand away. "You're Yarlen, aren't you? Where is your sister? I have to talk to her."
The kitchen helper sucked in a breath through their teeth as they looked between the two boys staring each other down. They took a quick step back before darting away towards the kitchen.
"I wouldn't let you within ten feet of her, asshole," Yarlen countered, balling his fist. Leader said no murder, but they said nothing about a fight to defend a sister from a terrible, rude bastard.
Through gritted teeth, Aym grumbled, "I was attacked once already today. Don't test me. I just want to apologize."
Yarlen scoffed. "An apology wouldn't ever make up for what you did."
Aym ran his hand through the hair between his ears. He muttered, "Lord Death, give me strength."
As if Leader would help him. Their glorious and powerful Leader cared more about Jalala's feelings than whatever Aym wanted to say. Why else would they have gone out of their way to comfort her the day before? The only offering death could give Aym was if they made him fall dead at that very moment.
"Please," Aym drew out the word, "I did not even know I did anything wrong."
Yarlen bristled. How could he not know what he did was terrible!? To play with a girl's heart? To taunt her so rudely and callously? Yarlen had had enough of this tomcat's nonsense!
Yarlen twisted his torso back and raised his fist. He would defend Jalala's honor right then and there!
Aym fell into a defensive stance as Yarlen swung.
"Stop! Yarlen, you dunderhead! Stop!"
Rinor pushed Yarlen, sending him toppling into one of the feast tables. The table shook, bowls and cups clattering together. Luckily, other followers at the table grabbed it before it fell completely over. The sudden jostling back and forth, however, caused a large bowl of fish broth soup to spill right on top of Yarlen's head.
Yarlen wiped at the warm soup on his face with his soaked robes. When he could finally see again, he found Rinor cringing at him and not one but two tall, dark cats staring pitifully at him.
"Rinor! What the hell?!" He snapped, using the table to pull himself up.
"Sorry, but there's been a mistake!" Rinor raised her hands to help, but unsure how to, put them back down. "Aym didn't do what Jalala thought he did."
Yarlen threw his hands up. "What are you talking about? Of course, he did. What else could he have meant by trying to kill himself only after Jalala asked him to dance but that he didn't like her?"
"Wait...what? Isn't Jalala mad because I didn't let her be my hero?" Aym tilted his head. Yarlen opened his mouth to snap at him for even suggesting a stupid idea like that but stopped when he saw that Aym looked genuinely confused.
Rinor put a hand on Yarlen's fish broth-soaked shoulder. "Disciple Narinder told him that was why she was mad. He said she wanted to be heroic and save Aym, but when he tried to pull his hand away, he accidentally took that from her and made her upset."
"Jalala doesn't care about that stuff at all," Yarlen pointed out with a scowl. Yarlen didn't know him that well, but Disciple Narinder had to know someone like Jalala didn't want to play hero, whatever that meant.
Aym gasped. "Master was...wrong?" He grabbed at the other cat's arm for support.
The other cat patted his back sympathetically. "Lord Narinder has been without his crown for a while now. He isn't as infallible as he once was."
Yarlen looked between Rinor and the cats with furrowed brows.
"So, I..." he sighed, "guess we should go get her...?"
Yarlen didn't want to. He still wasn't sure he trusted Aym to be around Jalala, but if what Rinor said was true and this was all a misunderstanding, then Aym should have a chance to clear his name.
From behind them, someone cleared her throat. "Um, I'm already here."
Jalala shifted nervously. All three cake slices were now piled on top of each other in one bowl in her hands.
"Jalala!" Aym hurriedly stood straight. "We need to talk. I think I need to apologize, but," he glanced at Rinor and Yarlen, "maybe not for the thing I thought I did?"
Before Jalala could reply, Disciples Lena put her hand on Jalala's shoulder. The kitchen helper from before peeked around her with wide eyes. Dispicile Lena glared at the group and raised a heavy soup ladle.
"Whatever you kids need to do, do it somewhere else," she roared, jabbing the ladle away from the table.
Before Yarlen could muster an apology for the disruption and the wasted soup, Rinor had his and Jalala's arms in hers while the other cat grabbed Aym by the front of his robe, and the two dragged the rest away before they had to face the kitchen shrew's wrath.
Yarlen had pointed two fingers to his eyes and jabbed them at Aym. He, Rinor, and Baal then left. As they were swallowed by the crowd, Jalala heard Rinor suggest they dunk Yarlen in the fountain nearest to The Lamb's tent, as it might have some holy properties that could help with the fish stench.
That had been more than ten minutes ago, and yet, sitting on a bench near where the festival games were held, Aym and Jalala hadn't said a word to each other. Every time one of them attempted to speak, they puttered out, embarrassed.
Jalala wanted to find a pit to crawl into. This was all her fault, wasn't it? She had assumed Aym tried to pry his hands from hers to avoid the awkward conversation of declining a dance with her. Why else would he let himself die when she hadn't given up saving him?
She twiddled her thumbs. The Lamb had told her that she should think about whether Aym had meant to upset her, and she ignored their wisdom to brood and sulk on her perceived rejection.
Jalala shook her head. She couldn't believe she fell for the most overused trope in the book!
Aym cleared his throat. "Um," he started, paused, then continued, "I...I'm sorry."
The skin under her fur burned. "No!" She shook her hands in front of her. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't even try to listen to you."
"Well, I didn't even try to explain why I was trying to die to you," Aym countered.
"You didn't have time! I'm the one who jumped to conclusions," she argued. He opened his mouth to continue, but she cut him off. "How about this: if you accept my apology, I will accept yours." She held out her hand to him. "Deal?"
His giant hand engulfed hers as they shook. The two held hands for a beat longer than they needed to before each slowly pulled away. Their eyes met and they looked away from each other.
Jalala looked out to the games ahead of them. The archery contest had a long line of people, probably because it was one of the few times The Lamb allowed bows and arrows in the camp, while the guessing the numbers of seeds in a bottle game had only a few children around it, tapping the glass jar as to attempt to count the seeds.
She spotted Disciple Narinder stomping away from the ring toss game. The person running the game called at him with a mocking tone, and Jalala was pretty sure she saw Disciple Narinder send a rude gesture towards the game and its runner.
"Did I hear you right earlier? Your master is Disciple Narinder?"
Aym perked his ears up. He rolled back his shoulders, suddenly radiating with pride.
"He is. He taught me almost everything I know about combat and magic and serving The Red Crown." Aym crossed his arms and gave a confident head nod. "Whatever Mother had not taught me, he taught me. I'm privileged to have been gifted to him."
Jalala didn't quite know what Aym meant by 'gifted to', but that answer could wait for another day. She had something more important to ask. She stood up, dusted her robe off, and then held out her hand to Aym with a bright smile.
"Did he also teach you to dance?"
Narinder glared at the target on the other end of the range then at the arrow stuck in the ground halfway between him and the target. He slammed the bow down at the feet of the follower in charge and stormed away from the archery game.
Thank The First Ones Shamura wasn't there to see that sorry display of archery. They would have forced him to practice until he could hit the target a hundred times over without missing for such a failure--and Narinder would happily do it.
First, his guess at the seed guessing game made the woman behind the glass jar wince, then he made a fool of himself at the ring toss game, and now this...
"I'm losing my edge," he muttered to himself, staring at his palm.
"Maybe. There isn't all that much to sharpen it on here, after all."
He jumped as Baal watched him with an amused expression. Narinder glared at him, too. In the Gateway, Baal would never even think to suggest his master was soft or weak. He would have argued that Narinder was The Great Lord Death, He Who Puts The Souls To Rest, and such a person could never be weak.
Narinder wrinkled his nose. "You stink of fish."
"It's been an interesting day already for me." Baal chuckled, brushing at a wet spot on his robes. "Are you having fun, Lord Narinder?"
Narinder grunted in response, thankful at least one of the two called him by his name.
"Where is your brother?" Narinder asked, steering both of them and their conversation away from the archery game.
"Dancing with his bear girl." Baal hummed. "They were able to make up. It was very awkward for everyone. The Kitchen Shrew threatened all of us with a ladle. Aym will want to tell you all about it later, I'm sure."
Narinder perked up a little. So The Lamb's--and his--scheme came to fruition then. Aym and that girl were in the starts of a romantic relationship.
"Good for him." Narinder put his hands behind his back and walked coolly over to a set of large logs set up for seats. Baal took the seat next to him.
"Do any of the people here catch your eye?" He asked, idly looking up at the sky. Not a single cloud darkened the blue. A perfect day for a festival.
Baal waved his hands in front of him with a laugh. "Oh, no, not really. Honestly, that romance stuff is not really for me. I'm fine with having just friends. I even made a few here today." A smirk crossed his face. "And what about you? Surely after all this time, there has to be someone here worthy of your affections, my lord, perhaps someone...fluffy."
Narinder rolled his eyes. "Hold your tongue, child."
Baal propped his elbows on his knees and set his jaw in his hands. His eyes glowed with impish light. His tail flicked mischievously behind him.
"Why? You're not my master. I don't have to listen to you."
Narinder pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes then scoffed. "It is complicated, and that is all you need to know."
Baal rocked back, roaring with laughter. Narinder forced his mouth to stay in a frown. He had expected Baal and Aym to stay stony-faced when acting as his servants. It pleased him now to see the boy so easily laugh in public.
Baal wiped a tear away from his eye. "Aym is planning on asking you to let him stay here and train him. He misses being able to use spells, and so do I, actually." He looked down at his hands. "Our bodies aren't as good at magic as they were before."
"Without The Crown, neither is mine," Narinder admitted.
"Then, could you use that 'complicated' relationship of yours to talk The Lamb into helping you teach us again?" Baal set his hands in his lap and leaned forward. "I promise to force Aym to stop calling you 'Master' if you do."
"As if my wisdom could be bought with such a weak offer," Narinder said, standing up. Baal's ears flattened in disappointment.
"Oh, I understand..." He twiddled his fingers together and bowed his head.
Narinder smirked to himself. He would not let a youth like Baal act so coyly to him, not without retaliation.
He picked at his claws. "Now, if you were to promise that and offer me all the bread you both get for dinner while here, I suppose I can consider attempting to train you and your brother again with The Lamb's help."
Narinder turned away so Baal--and his beaming expression--couldn't see the smile on his own face.
The Lamb leaned against a flower-wrapped pole, a cup of wine in their hands. They sipped it as the band on the stage played something close to a song. They made a mental note to encourage some of the younger members to pick up an instrument so the cult could have life-long permanent musicians.
"Forneus, no offense, but your son cannot dance." The Lamb raised their cup towards the throng of dancing people. Near the far edge, Aym took awkward, shaking steps, his hands in Jalala's. He kept glancing down at his feet since when he tried to look up at his partner, he accidentally stepped on her toes. Admittedly, Jalala wasn't much better since she couldn't keep on beat to the music.
"A tragedy that will remedy itself." Forneus sipped her wine before she asked, "Blessed Lamb, tell me truthfully, did you have something to do with their hearts' connection?"
The Lamb shrugged and hid their smile behind their cup. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're implying, Forneus."
Forneus chuckled and shook her head. They and she had a longstanding friendship. She had been one of the first outside the cult to give her praise to them, after all. She could read them as easily as Narinder at this point.
Is that a universal cat trait, I wonder? The Lamb thought, watching as Jalala took a step forward too fast and toppled over Aym, leaving them both on the ground.
Forneus sighed. "I know it is not my place to make demands of a god, but," she bent her large body down so she was at eye level with The Lamb, "please, do not manipulate either of my boys in the future like that."
The Lamb put their hand to their chest in faux offense. "Why, Forneus! How could you say such a thing? I'm hurt." They faked a sniffle. "First Narinder calls what I'm doing 'a scheme' and now you call it 'manipulation.'"
"Ah, so you admit to it." Forneus sent them a knowing look then straightened back up.
The Lamb raised a shoulder. "Caught me. I promise I won't 'manipulate' your children's romantic relationships next time. I just want the boys to be happy, is all."
They were thankful Forneus hadn't been upset with them for pushing Aym and Jalala together. They had a hunch Forneus knew there was an ulterior motive to their plan, but whether she guessed it was to use her son's strength to help around the grounds or not, they weren't sure and definitely weren't going to bring it up.
"Thank you." Forneus raised her cup with a laugh. "To The Blessed Lamb, conduit of great power."
They raised their cup to hers. "To the blessed mother, protector of her children's hearts."
The two tapped their cups together and went back to watching the new couple trip over each other's feet.