Goddess

to unconsciousness, one side of her face smeared purple.
Enyo.
Delyth put a hand to her neck. The bruises were gone, her flesh healed, but her voice still took so much effort to pull from her throat. “Tanwen,” she called, her voice like a rockslide. “Let’s talk. For old time’s sake.”
Of course, the idea that a gate could keep Delyth out was ridiculous. For a second, she let herself consider what she might do if Tanwen said no, refused to help her find Enyo. Her vision dimmed, black around the edges. It would be so simple. To leap into the air, tear the redhead off that wall like the monster everyone knew Delyth was. She could be out of range before the guards ever raised their bows.
Beside her, Etienne shifted, and Delyth swallowed. What was wrong with her? She didn’t even have Calamity to blame any longer.
The redhead’s smirk was unmistakable from her position, looming high over the road. The fact that she could still sneer with her face in that state was impressive. But then Tanwen had always been one for dramatics. “Old times sake? Really? Come on, Del—” She threw the nickname at Delyth like a spear. “You are such a terrible liar.”
The guards watched unblinkingly, their grips still tight on their spears. These were people who had once admired Delyth, thought her a mighty and fine warrior. Now they glared at her as if she had personally attacked them.
“What is it that you want? And who's your new plaything? He looks a bit scrawny for your usual temple types.” Tanwen’s tone was deliberately cruel.
“Just like I said. To talk.”
Delyth wondered if she looked as empty as she felt, staring up at Tanwen. The redhead was shooting untipped arrows, and she didn’t even know it. They came nowhere close to piercing the warrior’s scarred hide.
For a moment, she looked from Tanwen to her warriors, noting their drawn faces, the tight grips on their weapons. They looked as though they expected a fight, as though Delyth and Etienne alone were going to tear through the proud Mynydd Gwyllt settlement.
Unlikely. Though a restless, desperate part of her half wanted to try. If only to find out where Enyo had gone faster.
“What are you afraid of, Tanwen? We’re not even armed, and my friend here is no warrior.”
Tanwen made a choked, insulted sound, and then her head withdrew from view. But those must have been the right words to say because the gates groaned open, and she stalked out, spear clutched in her good hand. Face bruised, hand wrapped and splinted and held to her chest, eyes bright with undirected fury.
She snarled as she approached and gave Etienne a withering glare before squaring up to Delyth.
“You can’t expect me to believe you just so happen to want to talk not five days since your Goddess showed up here with some other God and destroyed my settlement. Killed—” She lifted her hand in example. “Maimed.—What? Did you send her here to exact your revenge for my leaving all those years ago? Did you tell her Maoz’s artifact was here as some sick joke?”
Etienne tensed at Delyth’s side, and she forced herself to take a deep, shuddering breath. He must have seen her clench her fists. She had not been this easy to anger before.
“Yes, Tanwen,” Delyth growled, uncharacteristically cruel. “I summoned a Goddess from the abyss to attack the girl who walked out on me seven years ago.”
Fuck, she needed to be slapped, but somehow Delyth didn’t think that would do anything for their negotiations. “Look, woman, you’ve met Enyo. Do you really think anyone sends her to do anything? She does what she wants! Takes what she wants—”
Delyth was breathing hard, her words becoming more rasping as she got more heated. She swallowed, looked away. Why couldn’t she talk? It’d been weeks! No injury had affected her this long. Refusing to heal…
“She took the spear of Maoz? Did she say anything else?” Etienne spoke up beside her, his voice clear, his eyes focused on Tanwen.
“They took one of my clansmen. They spoke about taking me, but apparently, my sex was a problem for Maoz. A Vassal… That’s the word they used.” Tanwen looked to Delyth again. “What does that mean? Your Goddess taking my people hostage? What will she do to him?”
Delyth and Etienne looked at each other. The mage’s face was still far too easy to read, open and afraid. They both knew exactly what that meant.
Vassal. To think Delyth had once considered it an honor.
Her stomach turned.
“They’re summoning another God,” she said after a long moment, turning back to look at Tanwen. “They’ll use his body to hold Maoz, and it’ll kill him. Slowly at first. Like a disease with no cure. Enyo did it to my—” Delyth squeezed her eyes shut, then forced herself to look at Tanwen. “Someone I loved.”
Etienne stepped forward, squaring his thin shoulders so that his height, well over a head above Tanwen, was evident. “We’re going to stop them,” he said. “To get our friend back. I don’t see why we couldn’t save your clansmen too. Though we could use some help. Food. Weapons. And the last direction Enyo was seen heading.”
“Oh yes—” Tanwen drawled. “I’ll just give Delyth a few of my warriors to command and a nice big sword to wield. I know what she does when she’s angry. Besides—” She tossed her red hair away from her shoulders. “From what I saw of Enyo, your scrawny little friend? She’s hopeless. That bitch slaughtered my people left and right, broke my hand for no reason other than speaking out against her, and then tried to fuck me—Sorry Delyth, guess she’s not as in love with you as you are her.—And I’m not willing to sacrifice more of my people for your personal vendetta.” Tanwen shot Delyth one more look and then turned to leave.
Only to halt at the sight of Niclas standing at the gate. His face was as remote as ever, but