Rain Harlow
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Chapter 17: Realm of the Nature Goddess
🕑 Added 2023-07-19 05:11:35 +0000 UTCAbove the goddess Redberry, the dryads tittered, one leaning over to another to whisper in her ear, as yet another called out, “Call her Baby!” which caused a ripple of laughter. Redberry’s head and eyes moved up slightly, and though they all couldn’t possibly see her glare, they cut off quickly, clearing their throats and sobering as Redberry sighed long-sufferingly.
Sammy found it hard to stop staring slack-jawed at all the wondrous things before her. It was something just shy of a dream come true to seemingly meet a bunch of apparent fae creatures. The dancing ring of little pixie-like entities fluttered upward, ending their dance and all gazing over at her curiously and gleefully.
“Crown and jewelry,” they half-sang in quick, tiny chorus, “majesty-at-best; at last a new, resplendent guest!”
“That’s enough, you chattering magpies!” Redberry admonished darkly, sweeping an annoyed hand at them, to which they appeared quite offended. “No one wants to hear your nonsense.” Very grumpy.
Sammy was grinning ear-to-ear at the spectacle. “It is an honor and pleasure to meet you all.” Her eyes flitted over them, then came to rest on Redberry. Sammy made a slight bow. That scar… “Thank you for your invitation. And I both fear and try to be brave, Goddess.”
The goddess of nature seemed to ponder it. “I suppose that’s reasonable. A predator exercises caution in the brush with its competitors, but cannot appear weak lest they become prey themselves.”
“That is one way of putting it.” After a pause she added, “We certainly seem to have fearsome enemies.”
Redberry sat back and her gaze looked off to the side. “They no longer care about my territory after dying and killing within it to their fill. In time there was little left but for them to waste themselves pulling weeds that poisoned them.”
“I’m sure there will come a day that changes.”
Redberry shrugged again, one hand propping on a cheek in seeming disinterest as she regarded Sammy. Yet her eyes still shimmered like shifting waters. “If they took the city, the demonkin would take it from them. These days they’re stronger. And they’ve always been closer, despite the ocean between.”
“Why don’t they take it now, then?”
“The public answer is an uneasy peace and alliance between the Southlands and the strongest clan of the demonkin. And trade… being more civilized… that sort of thing.”
“And what is the private answer?”
Redberry frowned without saying anything.
A dryad suddenly appeared out from a cluster of enshrouding leaves up on a branch nearby Sammy, dropping upside-down with her legs hooked, swinging and grinning impishly, hair spilling down. “The Demon King is in love with her, pretty one! The horned god of War wants a goddess queen!”
“He wants her fruits!” the wiseass dryad from before added. This caused uncontrollable giggling and laughter, with additional innuendo about ‘bushes’ and ‘berries’ and the like tossed out. Moreover, the dryads seemed to multiply in numbers on the tree, joining in the merriment.
They’re really coming out of the woodwork.
Redberry’s expression was one of suffering, the hand on her cheek turning into her rubbing a forehead, tantamount to a facepalm. She blew air out of her cheeks and simply endured it all.
“Excuse me!” Sammy cried, trying to get them to calm down before Redberry blew her top. “Hey! Excuse m- I have questions!”
They quieted down — mostly — then one of the little pixies, hands on her hips as she hovered over the big mushroom with the rest, said, “We don’t like Zadkiel one bit; his crudeness and rudeness give us a fit!” The other fairies mimed her pose, nodding once vehemently.
“Zadkiel,” Sammy repeated, making sure she remembered it. “So the demonkin faction that does more than raid is led by an actual god.”
“Yes,” Redberry said. “Not high level, though. His power and following grows steadily through consolidation and absorption of clans. Perhaps it has slowed somewhat recently. There are several that are isolated or headed by powerful mortals he remains cordial with. Others are like vassals.”
“So he has to war constantly to grow.”
“Not exactly.” She frowned. “His domains are War, Fighting, and Might. I advised him to create a sustainable internal culture to not be so reliant on conquest. I told him he should create a code for his warriors. His next might be Honor, but he claims he’s not yet ‘convinced’.”
“He’s always asking her for advice!” A dryad called.
“And wanting to visit!” said another. “But she claims her migraines to shove him off!”
There was a burst of giggling, and Redberry was furious, slapping her hands on the throne arms and fully turning her head up to them. “Silence, you gossip hounds! Don’t reveal secrets to her, or I’ll banish you from the tree for a fortnight!”
Their suppression of laughter was immediate, but the constrained snickering and smiles seemed to indicate the threat to either be empty or not a big deal.
“Do you really have migraines, Red?”
Redberry gave Sammy a withering look, crossed her arms, and turned her head away, saying nothing.
I guess that’s too personal for a stranger…
In the silent discomfort, Sammy’s eyes passed back over the other denizens. “If I may ask, ah… what are all they? Did you… create them? How are they in your realm?”
“I created some,” Redberry said, sitting back in a proper way with a look like ‘now that you’ve asked an appropriate question.’ “Many. I filled my material realm with the fae, investing in autonomous spiritual entities to care for it and make it flourish, while enchanting and livening up the lives of mortals. They were my Servitors. Sadly, they weren’t built for war and were hunted to extinction.”
The air around the tree grew colder, and the denizens seemed to grow sad and remorseful.
Redberry continued, “Some accepted my offered sanctuary here, within me, but they were made independent because I abhor anything else as a servant. So most stubbornly remained and died with their pride. As ever with nature, the strongest survived and remain in the world, more reclusive than ever. Some have even rejected me for my failings. And that is their right.”
Sammy nodded slowly as she listened. “I admire you for that. You have a sense of justice. Have you ever created more? In the world?”
“Would you make more precious lambs when you’ve watched a thousand slaughtered?”
Wincing, Sammy shook her head. She could feel the pain in those words. “I suppose not.”
“I tried to re-create individuals before, but… it rings hollow. Feels abominable. I couldn’t replace a lived life with my imagination. We aren’t omniscient, aren’t omnipotent. They’re gone. They’re dead, and each took a piece of me with them.”
It hit rather close to home for Sammy, as in the back of her mind, she’d considered whether she could create her dad. Somehow, what Redberry said made perfect sense. There was something wrong to it, or maybe evil. It wouldn’t be him, and she’d always know it. A band-aid on a hole in the heart.
“I’m glad that some accepted your sanctuary, Red. It’s wonderful that you’ve… created life like this.”
The goddess on her throne might have nodded. “Though they are a massive pain in my ass.”
The pixies held their hands over their hearts and sang, “We love you, Redberry; home to the fairy!”
The dryads, much less in-chorus, called, “We love you, Redberry!”
“-berry.”
Redberry rolled her eyes and her hand went to prop up her cheek once more.
“I’ve recently considered such entities,” Sammy said. “Just in my own spaces. I’m just not sure what I would go with. A pet first, maybe.”
“Have caution in such processes. You cannot edit the personality of an entity afterward. You’d have to destroy it and re-create it. If you cannot bring yourself to, then you’d have a hobgoblin in your head you have to banish and confine somewhere. Hardly ideal.”
Sammy had to resist asking if she had done so before. “I’d rather not make a sapient being and then kill it, that’s for sure.”
“Then our minds are the same in this.”
“You’ve been around a long time, haven’t you? You’re high level?”
“Long enough. High enough.”
Sammy smirked. Not trusting me with personal things is a theme here. “Will you tell me your domains then?”
“Show her yours!” a dryad called.
Redberry frowned, then sighed. “This is not exactly a secret, and you did tell me yours. Fine. Nature, Life, Freedom, The Seasons, Hunting, Solitude…”
“And Fer-til-i-ty,” a dryad swooned, emphasizing each syllable, while conducting a swaying dance up on a branch, with her hands hovering in the suggestive tracing of her curves. It was so comically executed that even Sammy snickered. The other dryads clapped, wooed, and jeered about it.
“Not my finest youthful indiscretion,” Redberry muttered darkly, then raised her voice to say, “If you’d ever like to trade for that one, I’m game.” It was quite sarcastic.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think Mirrors and that go well together.”
“A likely story.”
Sammy grinned. “I guess I know why the Southlands bounced back in population so well.” The dryads loved that one.
Redberry pointed an imperious finger. “I will banish your behind in an instant, Moth.”
Suddenly a prayer popped into her head. Bast. “Your Majesty! I entreat you, may you appear in the mirror soon? I want to speak and I want to show you my painting.”
“I’ll be available momentarily, Bast.”
“It has been a true pleasure to be here,” Sammy began, “and I hope to come again, but I must go. Redberry, I also hope I can continue seeking your counsel and chatting. It’s already been invaluable.”
Collectively, the fae made disappointed noises. The pixies cried, “Oh, no, why does she go so soon; her company has made the lot all swoon!”
Redberry grimaced at them a bit, then said, “We’ll see, Goddess of Mirrors. I’m rarely in the mood for chatter on top of the rest. If you are smart, you’ll proceed in your new existence cautiously.”
She’s like an old lady, I swear.
“I’ll do my best, Red. Just for you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Tch. Whatever you say.”
Sammy bowed and, rather than just instantly leaving, headed out the way she came. Somehow it felt more polite.
On the other side of the mass of tree leaves, she blinked as a pixie was fluttering right in front of her. Shyly, at the maximum extension of her little arms, the pixie held out a little pink paper note, which to her size made it as big as her.
“Oh. Uh. Thank you.” Sammy carefully took the note, the pixie nodding vigorously while blushing with visible redness until it was taken, at which point it zoomed off in relief.
Smiling in effect from the unusual experience, Sammy read the note. In multicolored, cursive text it read:
“Please keep a heart for our mistress,
for she’s always pained and in distress;
but know that you put a light in her eyes,
We’ve not seen since a key demise!”
She blinked at it after reading. A key demise… but she likes me, it seems. That’s good. I think her company, for all she grumps at them, keeps her sane. She may want solitude, but not complete solitude.
The note dissolved into multicolored dust, leaving mystery in its wake. Well. It would take time to unravel, no doubt.
She left the realm and found herself back at the foot of the throne’s steps. She ascended them to sit and pulled up the mirror for Bast’s location.
Now I can ask about those runebooks… I wonder how I can read from here? Copying mechanism? Would that work with magic stuff?
The study was largely just as she remembered it, though he’d improved the lighting, and there was an entire easel positioned for display, with a curtain over it. Bast was sitting on the table, arms crossed, simply waiting. He jumped up immediately when Sammy appeared.
“Hello there, Lord Bast. A painting, you said?”
He clapped his hands with a smile. “Yes! Inspired by Your Majesty, of course. My finest rendition, I must say! Models simply couldn’t compare to how clearly you materialized in my very soul.”
Sammy blinked. “Wait, you painted me?! I’m not sure that-”
“Yes, I painted you!” He grinned wide. “In my own definitive style of course.”
Pursing her lips a moment as she stared at him, she finally said, “Alright, let’s see it. Obviously, I have to know what you’ve done.”
“Ha ha, yes, you do!” He put his hands on the curtain, then said dramatically, “Behold.” Then he pulled it off, revealing the painting underneath in clear lighting.
It was a realistic painting of her, capturing her face very well, and the crown atop her head was similar but daintier and streamlined. She was looking off with an expression of mysterious wonder, smiling slightly, hair caught in the wind, one hand up for some reason. The background was a beach with a tower in the distance. But her dress was gone, in its place not much: bits of jewelry and flowing bits of sky blue and purple cloth ribbons just barely covered her nudity, as if randomly caught on a breeze.
In short, it was racy as hell — to her mind, anyway.
“What the absolute fuck, dude?!” Sammy blurted.
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