The Creators Ch. 17

The nymph.

I scrambled to my feet, and rushed over to the figure. The perspective from which it was viewed made it so that the nymph was barely five inches tall when I examined her closely. The little leaves of the bushes made up her features, and though they were basic, it was unmistakably her. Little vines sprouted out from her opened hands, creating balls of leaves that seemed to float from her sides. Rocks. Rocks torn right from the cobblestones of the street, and suspended in the air.

I touched my scarred lips, and whispered a single name.

"Willowbud."

Part Two: Disguise

ASTRID

All the warriors of Ofan and Iona were gathered in the stands of an amphitheater Willowbud had created. Nona, Bianca and I stood on the stage, though we were not the main attraction. Our two new and unwilling guests were the center of everyone's attention. Nona had swooped into the back of the horde late last night, and collected two straggling orcs. They were aptly named 'Stink' and 'Buttercup.' One was an enormous bruiser of a male that towered eight feet tall, and the other was a middle-aged female about half his size. The valkyries in the stands could not hide their collective disdain for the pair (and all orc-kind in general), and Nona and Bianca made no pretense of civility with their naked swords resting in their hands, but I stood before the pair without a weapon—though I hardly needed one. There had been a time not too long ago that I wouldn't have willingly stepped within a hundred miles of an orc, but that time had passed. My days in Drastin had taught me much about different people, and while orcs could be as brutal and cruel as their reputation (especially in the bedroom), most were just... people. Perhaps Nona, Bianca and the rest of the valkyries saw nothing but two interlopers no better than cockroaches, but I saw two terrified individuals vainly trying to maintain their dignity before certain death. I admired their poise.

"Buttercup," I said to the enormous male, "please demonstrate to all of us a common orc greeting."

"Suck my cock," the orc growled.

The valkyries collectively hissed from the crowd, but I held up my hand.

"That's a very interesting way of saying 'hello;' how do you say goodbye?"

"Eat my ass!" Stink snarled, and spit in my face. Nona and Bianca raised their swords, but again, I held up my hand.

"Suck my cock and eat my ass; fascinating," I chuckled, and wiped the saliva from my cheeks and nose. I smiled at the orc female. "How do you ask for sex, I wonder?"

"I'm not telling you cunts nothin'!" Stink bellowed. "Ya'll can feed my turds to your young'uns and drink my fine-aged piss!"

"How about I feed you your heart?" Nona snarled.

"Nona, please," I said, resting my hand on Nona's sword. "That's no way to treat guests. We've invited these two esteemed representatives of Gratora into our home, and they should be treated with the dignity their station is owed."

"So I should throw them in the waste stream?" Bianca barked, and the crowd roared their agreement.

"Bianca, you of all people should have learned by now that—" And Stink spit in my face again. Bianca punched the orc woman so hard that she flipped onto her back, and Buttercup came charging to his companion's defense only to be launched ten feet by a devastating kick delivered by Nona. The crowd cheered, and I had to scramble to keep my companions from decapitating our guests.

"Enough! Both of you!" I yelled, pulling Bianca and Nona off Buttercup and Stink. "If you can't control your damnable pride, then sit in the audience with the rest!"

"Astrid, she—"

"She what? Spit in my face?!" I snarled. "How many times did you spit in mine last night, dearest friend? I've had much worse of your fluids on me than saliva, and I smiled with them dripping from my chin! Now if you can't control yourself, I am going to suck this orc's cock and make every stuck-up warrior watch until I'm done, and you know I like to take my time!"

Nona eased away from Buttercup, and sheathed her sword. "High Guard Blackwing, I do not believe that the Bound One is bluffing."

Bianca frowned, and backed away from Stink. "Of course she's not."

I pulled Buttercup and Stink to their feet, and dusted them off. "Sorry about that," I smiled to them, "cultural differences and all. You tell me to suck your cock; Nona kicks you in the chest; we all have unique ways of saying 'hello.' Shall we start again?"

The orcs looked at each other, then looked at me. "Did she just call you 'Bound One?'" Buttercup asked.

I opened my toga to reveal my patterned flesh, and winked.

"The Earth Former is alive?!" Stink hissed.

"I guess you know by now that you'll be taking an extended vacation here at Ofan. Please make yourselves at home."

"Bound One..." Bianca growled warningly.

I rolled my eyes. "This was your and Brandon's plan, Bianca. If you don't like it, take it up with—"

"The Life Giver is alive too?!" Stink yelled.

"Yes, and I'm sure they'll be happy to meet you in good time, but right now we need some help from you two." I studied Stink for a moment, then transformed into an exact copy of her. She blinked stupidly, and I did my best to mimic it. Buttercup gawked at me with drool hanging from his tusks, and I turned to him so that I could better mirror his mannerisms.

"Ok, so we've got the expression of shock out of the way," I said. "How about just a casual stance? Act like you're waiting for a carriage to arrive or something."

Buttercup continued to gawk at me, though he did also reflexively scratch his balls. I transformed myself into a replica of him, and also began scratching my balls.

"Am I doing this right?" I asked him. "Or does it seem too forced? Is there an angle of your wrist that emotes the casualness of the action, or is it more overt than that?" I turned to Bianca. "What do you think?"

Bianca discarded her obvious scorn for dispassionate academia, transformed into Buttercup, and began scratching her balls. "You know, I think it's up to individual taste," she mused. "I prefer the pinch-and-roll method, so I'd probably stick with that. Anything but what feels natural would appear as an act."

"Pinch and roll?" I queried, and attempted the maneuver. "Oh wow, that does feel pleasant."

"I'm surprised you haven't tried it yet."

"Excuse me?!" Nona yelled. "Bound One, I believe we have more pressing matters!"

I glanced annoyedly at Nona. "High Guard Cloudwhisper, why are you not gathering this invaluable intelligence from an enemy asset? We only have one day! Now scratch your balls!"

Nona glared at me, then transformed into a statuesque muscular green beauty that looked more like a sculpture than a person. "I will remain female in disguise."

Buttercup shook himself from his stupor, and sneered at Nona. "You call that a disguise? You'll have every hot-blooded bull within ten miles sticking his nose up your ass."

"And half the females too!" Stink added, and licked her tusks.

Nona glowered at the pair of them, then transformed into Stink. "There," she growled at her female replica, "now no man will even look at me."

"Oh shit, got 'em!" Angela helpfully yelled from the audience, though I could only tell her by her voice, for she was in the form of an old male orc.

I turned toward the stands, and looked out at the thousands of winged warriors. "Well?" I called to them. "Are the fighters of Ofan and Iona now too lazy to properly train for battle? Transform yourselves!"

It took a moment for them to get over their pride, but once they had, the field of white and gold-streaked wings turned into a small army of very confused orcs. I smiled, and turned back to Buttercup and Stink.

"Great. Now, I've got some situations I want to run by you. If a male orc from one clan and a male orc from a rival clan bump into each other, what is the proper display of aggression?"

ANGELA

"How are you so good at this?" I asked Justina as I lumbered awkwardly in my new orc body.

Justina shrugged, though the mere act of shrugging her shoulders was a masterclass in thespianism, for there was none of her natural inquisitiveness in the motion; simply ignorance that belied the existential apathy that was pervasive in all orc-kind. "I've fucked a lot of orcs; what can I say?"

"Well I've fucked a lot of valkyries," I said, and transformed into an Ofanian, "but if I take one awkward step, everyone will think I'm the retarded cousin they keep in the closet."

"You must adopt the character up here," Justina tapped her head. "It's something I learned while studying the mating habits of the Western Highland Squirrel. If you don't believe in yourself, no one else will."

"Inspiring words," I grumbled, and transformed back into my own body. "Willowbud and Astrid recognized me by just my eyes, and neither of them had ever seen me before."

"Julia mistook you for her own daughter."

"Yeah, well Julia's kind of fucking stupid. Her daughter on the other hand... I am so fucked if Diamond sees me. That bitch and I shared a brain once."

Justina patted me on the shoulder. "Angela, I believe you've solved your own problem."

"What?"

"You will play my retarded cousin."

I laughed, and then sighed when I looked out at the stadium of valkyries, all of whom would never be mistaken for anything but what they were. "Maybe I can play a retard—"

"Not much of a stretch for you."

"Fuck off. As I was saying, maybe I can play a retard, but right now we have two-thousand spies who cannot physically lie. We are so boned. This plan was stupid."

"We're not spies; we're insurgents. We're not going to Gratora to glean information." Justina worked her bearded jaw for a second, her tusks seemingly bothering her. I could tell she was contemplating something, but with her underbite so pronounced, she couldn't bite her lip as she would.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I killed something this morning," she said. "It was just a falcon. I killed it for no other reason than to practice killing, and it made me sick to do it. I'm no killer, Angela." She looked at me, and there was fear in her eyes. "My mother is a killer. She's one of the greatest there ever was. It doesn't matter how much magic your brother stuffs into me; you have to be a killer to face a killer."

"We're not going there to kill her."

"You don't understand!" Justina growled. "Mom is the linchpin of the whole plan! If we can't convince her to come to our side, she'll sell us out to Julia and Diamond!" She clenched her fist in front of my face. It was quivering terribly. "Corruption stole everything in Mom that cares about me! All she knows now is strength and weakness, so what do we have to offer her?!" She dropped her fist to her side, and let out a shuddering breath. "The plan isn't stupid; just one part of it is. Willowbud and Gloria are right." Justina looked up at me, and there was something between anger and admiration in her eyes. "I know you better than anyone; better even than your brother knows you. I've been in your mind. I know what you can do."

"No," I said, and put a hand on Justina's broad shoulder. "I won't."

"But you can," she hissed. "You might not have killed, but you're a killer."

"Hey!" I snapped. "That's not going to fucking happen!"

"You talked to me about Willowbud's contingencies. We would be stupid not to make our own." Justina grabbed my hand, and held it tightly. "Promise me, Angela. Promise me you won't hesitate."

I stared back into her eyes, and wished I could find some doubt in them to upend, but there was nothing but resolution. "Brandon and I will make sure it never comes to that," I said, "but if it does, I won't hesitate. I promise."

Justina nodded, and blinked away a tear. "Thank you."

BRANDON

I rubbed at my brow, and looked over the map of Gratora. According to Bianca's report, there was a great fire last night over the subterranean city of Droktinar, the smoke obfuscating everything for miles. She speculated that Julia had made good on her promise to light the ancient furnace, which meant the horde would likely stall before advancing to the pass.

"We could use the extra time to refine our plan," Willowbud suggested. She and I were sitting alone in my office, though to keep Angela happy, I'd left the window open for her to snoop on us. I didn't even have to glance out at the amphitheater to know her eyes were on me; she made it quite clear with her frequent telepathic interruptions.

"We could sit here forever and never come up with a perfect plan. We're not revising it, Willowbud."

She ran her hands through her white hair, and groaned. "Go over it one more time."

"Angela says Tera's carriage rides about a half a mile from the front. Our entire force will infiltrate the horde from the back disguised as straggling orcs. The Ionans under Nona's leadership will disperse into the crowd, while Angela, Justina, the Ofanians and I move through the center toward Tera. Julia will be out in front, and Diamond is likely to be there as well. We should be able to avoid them."

"Assumptions aren't a great strategy when working with Corruption. How many times did I pop up at very inopportune moments?"

I smirked. "You had an uncanny way of knowing exactly when I was jacking it."

"I just found it weird that you'd sneak off to rub one out in the middle of a whore house."

"Jacking it isn't about sex; it's about quality alone time with my penis. If you were a real man, you would've understood."

"Male-bonding was rather difficult when your cock was nine inches up my cunt."

Brandon, if you keep letting your nine-inch best friend steer this conversation, I am going to have to separate the two of you, and I don't mean you and Willowbud, Angela growled in my head.

"Anyway..." I said, diverting our attention back to the map, "...Tera will smell all the gods and valkyries that just infiltrated the horde, and realize shit is about to hit the fan. Knowing she'd likely have to answer some very pointed questions if she were to run back to Julia, the gamble we're taking is that Tera will try to escape. Justina will track her down, and we'll extract her as fast as possible. Once we have her, the Ionans and Ofanians will launch their attack." I drew a path to the north of Droktinar. "You and Astrid will position yourselves here, and shadow us from a distance. As the insurgent valkyries drive the battle toward Droktin's Pass, you will move with the horde until Julia and Diamond enter the mountains. Once they are a mile in, you slam it shut, and game over."

Willowbud tapped her lips. "What if Julia and Diamond don't go in at the same time?"

"Julia's the priority. Diamond's the god of water in the middle of a desert; we can take her. I don't know if we can take Julia together even if Diamond is dead."

Willowbud looked at me darkly. "We can't."

I swallowed the bit of fear that had risen in my throat, and looked down at the map just to break eye-contact. "You will stay in constant telepathic contact with me. From this position here, you should have direct line of sight across the whole horde. I will not make my move until I hear confirmation that you're ready. If something unexpected occurs, I'll improvise to the best of my ability to accomplish our primary initial task, which is getting Tera out. If I cannot do this, then Angela, Justina and I will rendezvous with you outside of the horde and come up with a new strategy. Whatever happens, and I mean whatever, you cannot reveal yourself." Now I looked levelly at Willowbud. "That is nonnegotiable. Angela told me you were planning contingencies."

"It would be stupid not to."

"It would be even stupider to reveal yourself for my sake. This is the world we're talking about."

She nodded, reached into her belt, and tossed a knife onto the table. "Have you ever been tortured before?"

"Only if you count the things Tera did to me."

"I've been tortured. I've also done a lot of torturing. I was very good at it." Willowbud picked up the knife, and grazed it across my fingers. "I could break the bravest man in minutes. You made suicide capsules as a contingency, but a good torturer will always leave a glimmer of hope. They'll let you bargain and beg for a while; they'll take away pieces of you that you can rationalize living without. A finger, a toe, a nipple, an ear. You can still live a good life with one of those missing. Little by little, they'll raise the stakes until you're right at the brink. The pain is unbelievable, but it's the horror that's worse. The horror comes with the realization that one more missing finger won't let you play the lute anymore; one more missing toe won't let you dance anymore; one more missing eye will leave you blind. And you'll realize with that capsule in your mouth how much you love life now that it's slowly being taken away from you, so you won't bite down. You'll talk. It's only after you're done talking that the torturer will really have her fun with you. That's when you'll bite that capsule, Brandon."

I gulped. "Hello, Night Eyes, it's been a while."

Willowbud didn't laugh. "I trust the valkyries to do their duty and bite down; they've been trained to die for us since they could walk. We're not like them. Even when I hated myself—and oh, have I hated myself—I could never do it. That's why I'm making contingencies."

JULIA

It was midafternoon when I got back to the horde. There seemed to be more hubbub than usual, no doubt due to the rapturous proclamation I'd made the night before. I did love how excitable my orcish followers were. I always thought the rapture would be a solemn passage in history, but I was pleasantly surprised to be wrong. Of course it should be a joyous occasion; we were finally enacting the last will of God! I knitted my fingers, and pondered from afar if I would join in the revelry. There would be ale and wine, dancing and singing, pork off the bone and great mounds of beef. And yes, there would be sinning. There would be gambling, sex, fighting rings, and drugs. I would be duty-bound to punish the aggravators, and put an end to the festivities. I smiled ruefully to myself. They could have this day and this night to themselves. After all they had done for God, surely even the Holy Mother could shake her head, and chuckle fondly upon the mischievousness of her loving children. So I turned away from the revelry, and walked toward the lone carriage resting before it all.

Sister Tera was sitting by herself, puffing on her pipe. All of her Breytan prisoners were gone, and the long conga of slaves she kept with her were nowhere to be seen.

"This is a strange place for my director of sin to be," I smirked at her from the doorway. "Taking the day off?"

She glanced at me, furrowing her brow to accentuate the fresh scar between them. "After yesterday, I think I deserve one."

I blushed, and played with my fingers. "I'm... I'm sorry about how I treated you. I never should've doubted you. You've proven your worth tenfold."

"Yay for me," she muttered, and continued sucking on her pipe. "It's a little early for your confession, Sister."

"I'm taking the day off too."

"Then I'll wash your sins away tomorrow," Sister Tera said, and returned her attention to her pipe.

I swallowed the ball of anger that rose in my throat. "Please, Sister," I asked softly.

Sister Tera donned a pair of reading glasses, pulled out a magazine with her hooked hand, and nonchalantly paged through it. "I don't want to clean up the mess."

"You're punishing me."

"I'm doing quite the opposite."

I chewed on my lip. "What do you want?"

"I thought it was pretty clear from the location of my carriage that I wanted some solitude."