Chapter 15
Scene Transition
“Thank you for this, Serana,” Lillian said. The tall Elf woman just nodded as she observed the caravan of people carefully making their way across the roots of the floating city. The humans, especially, were having trouble keeping their footing, but whenever they stumbled, someone else was quick to wordlessly help them back up. As they walked down the grown, living street of the Mangrove city, every one of them was handed a small bundle. “We would have paid you,” she added. “In fact, the offer still stands.” She tried to ignore the people who, upon walking past her, reached out to her lantern. They’d been following her
“Nonsense,” Serana said. “I am not making a group of scared, starving people pay for food. That would be… revolting.” Lillian looked at her and smiled.
“You’ve changed.”
Serana looked at her. Despite how much she’d mellowed out in recent years, her face was still an impenetrable mask. “I’d be offended,” she said, “if you weren’t right.” She sighed. “In truth, I don’t believe money will be of use for much longer. If we ration and distribute food now, there will be less conflict later.” She turned her head and nodded at a large stack of similar packages. “Those are for my people.”
Lillian nodded. “You’re joining us.” It wasn’t a question. “We keep pace with the slowest. It’s a three-day journey from here to Whitehallow.” Serana acknowledged it with a soft hum, then looked at the long row of people. They looked tired, but there were few injured. For the most part, sticking together had worked out. Lillian tightened her jaw as she watched the last group on shore, waiting to cross. “Only a few hundred more have to come through before we can leave. The children are all doing well. How many with you?”
“Same as you,” Serana said. “A thousand or so. I’ve stopped counting.” There was a hint of pride in her voice. Despite how young her city was, many Elf had flocked to it, eager to relive the days of old, when the floating cities traveled the great river. Her face dropped as, Lillian assumed, she realized she was leaving the city behind.
“It’s only temporary,” Lillian said. It wasn’t much of a comfort. Serana’s mask didn’t slip.
“She’s only five years old. We can grow another city.” The woman crossed her arms and leaned against the house-tree she stood next to. “We will.”
“You may not have to,” Lillian tried. “When we talk to her, she’ll help.”
“What can she do?”
“She’ll do something,” Lillian said. “Probably something ridiculous. And it’ll probably work, too.” Serana breathed out quickly. Lillian turned to look at her. “Was that a laugh?”
“You heard nothing,” Serana said, but the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. For her, that was equivalent to a wide grin. “And you aren’t wrong. I just… try not to hope too much. Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment.”
“Don’t,” Lillian said, quietly. Serana looked at her, but said nothing. “What do you think will happen?”
“I don’t know,” Serana said. “I’ve no memory of anything like this happening. No memory of stories of something like this happening. Magic is leaking through every pore of the world, and Old Gods are bathing in it.”
“That’s ominous,” Lillian said. “Does that mean the Gods of legend are around?”
“Who’s to say?” Serana looked out at the horizon. In the distance, there was movement, things in the air too large to be birds. “A part of me hopes they are not.” She looked over at Alexander, who was sitting alone and picking at the food that had been handed to him. While he’d been quiet during the trip — largely, Lillian suspected, because he had been kept busy trying not to meet a gory, goopy or otherwise messy end — now that the sun was up in the sky again and word had spread that they were approaching at least a semblance of safety, he was back to his old self. Currently, that seemed to include a staring contest with several small Elf children who had made a bet, daring each other to run up and touch his golden horns. “What of the boy? Has he said anything?” Serana asked, looking at him.
Lillian opened her mouth, and then closed it. She’d intended to say “nothing much”, but that wasn’t true. The young man talked a lot. He talked all the time, in fact. Mostly to complain. About the food. About the danger. About his feet hurting. About having horns, which appeared to be a new thing for him. “Nothing useful,” Lillian said. “That may change when he meets our friend.”
“I hope so,” Serana said. Alexander swore when one of the kids sprinted past and bopped him on the horns with a triumphant yelp. “He seems tremendously lost. Perhaps he may go home.”
Home. Lillian had attempted to ask Alexander where he’d been from. Once. The boy had shut down so hard, shot her a look full of such vitriol, she’d given up on talking to him altogether. Whatever reverence the people of the northern towns seemed to hold for her, he didn’t share it. “I doubt it,” she said. “But he may find something, at least.” Alexander had put his food down and was now chasing the kids around, who were laughing and shrieking in mock terror as they hid between the trees of the floating city.
“He may,” Serana said. She didn’t sound convinced. Lillian wasn’t either. “And your other new companion?” the Elf asked, gesturing at Lillian’s shoulder. The giant moth appeared to be asleep or resting. It was hard to tell, but its ever so softly whistling noises sounded a little bit like snoring.
Lillian reached over and touched it gently under the chin. The moth chirped and stirred its wings, its antennae twitching slightly. “It’s been remarkably well-behaved. It seems to like sugared water and fruit, and just wants to be around this.” She held up her lantern. “It feels wrong to shoo it away.” She felt a little guilty even thinking about it. The creature seemed to be harmless, and it really didn’t eat much. Not that she knew what normal moth eating habits were, of course. But she’d been sharing her rations with the little critter, and it seemed to have been amenable. And it did provide some comfort, having it around her.
“I don’t think you should, either,” Serana said. “Do you mind?” She reached out to the moth, but stopped short. Lillian nodded. She trusted the woman to be careful with the creature. She’d always shown a respect, if not reverence, for the forest and the weirder things that dwelt within it. The moth looked at Serana’s hand for a moment and then tentatively took a little step onto it. Then another. Carefully, she lifted the moth off of Lillian’s arm, and brought it up to her own face. She cocked her head. It mirrored the motion. “It has a name?”
“None yet,” Lillian said. “Should it? If it is a spirit of some kind, or an aspect of some Old God, naming it could be bad luck.” Serana nodded almost imperceptibly.
“I don’t think it is,” Serana said. “No god I know of, leastways. I think this is just… a little creature. Speaking of which…” Tilly waved as she approached, bringing up the rear of the convoy. She was well liked by the children of the convoy, and she’d taken it upon herself to make sure there were no stragglers. Serana handed Lillian back the moth. It cleaned its antennae dutifully. “You should name it. Aspect, godling, or just a wild animal, names are important. Hello, Tilly.”
“Hello, princess,” Tilly said. “What’s for dinner?” She was tossed a package and started to fiddle with it.
“Fish,” Serana said drily. “Nuts. Fruit. I live in a tree on the river.” Tilly produced some jerky and held it up triumphantly.
“That,” Tilly said, as she chewed on a piece of salted salmon, “is very fair. I’m sure Lils has already thanked you, but I’d love to have another go as well.”
“No need,” Serana said. “But if you insist, I accept.”
“Good,” Tilly said. The little kobold sat down against the tree and curled her tail around her feet. They sat in silence for a while. “I don’t suppose my sword showed up on the riverbank before you left?” she asked in between bites. Serana shook her head. “Pity. I liked that sword.”
“It was a good sword,” Lillian said. “We’ll get you a new one.” Tilly opened her mouth to say something when she was interrupted by a yelp from Alexander, who had tripped and embedded his horns into a tree, much to the children’s delight. Lillian thought for a moment he was playing it up for their benefit, but it slowly was becoming clear he needed help. Serena and her exchanged a glance. “I’ll get him,” Lillian said.
“Oh, come on,” Tilly said. “Just a little longer. You have to admit it’s a little funny.”
“He’s having a tough time as it is,” Lillian said. “Public humiliation won’t help anyone.” Tilly grumbled behind her as Lillian went over to him. “Need any help, Alexander?” she asked when she was within earshot. The children had scurried off on her approach. They seemed to be a little uncomfortable around her.
“I’m fine,” the boy said. Lillian put her lantern down and crossed her arms. She had time. After a few more attempts to wrest himself free, he hung his shoulders and sighed. “Yes. I could use some help.”
“Good,” Lillian said, grabbed one of his horns, and yanked. He came loose quite easily, but then again, she had spent years training with weapons and fairly heavy armor. By comparison, Alexander was scrawny. He stood up and failed to make eye contact. Being taller than she was, he could avoid her gaze just by looking at the top of her head.
“You could have warned me,” he grumbled. Lillian noticed he was blushing.
“You’d have braced yourself,” Lillian said. “That would have made it more difficult.”
“Okay, fair, but like…” He looked up, crossing his eyes. “Those things are pretty damn sensitive. I don’t really want people to just grab them. It’s weird. I’m not even used to them yet.” Lillian shrugged and started to make her way back to Serana, then stopped and turned around. He took the hint and followed her.
“Well, we’ll see if we can get you back to your own world soon enough. With or without,” she looked up, “those.” Alexander shrugged. “Is that the only change?” Lillian asked. “The horns, I mean.” Alexander sat down next to Tilly, who glared at him sideways for a moment, and then stuck out her tongue. He scrunched up his nose and returned the favour.
“No,” he said, after a second. “It isn’t, though I don’t mind.” He held out his arm. “I was never, like, very tall. Or all that thin. It’s kinda cool to have long fingers like this.” He noticed people looking at him and he grew red. “Not like that!!”
“Sure,” Tilly said. “Whatever you say.” She winked.
“Fuck you,” Alexander said, hunching up his shoulders and trying to disappear between them. “Anyway, yeah, new body, new everything. I wasn’t particularly attached to my old one anyway. Couldn’t get any worse.”
“I can relate,” Tilly said, and didn’t elaborate. Lillian thought back of the person Tilly used to be. She hadn’t been particularly happy, no. Alexander just looked at her and then shook his head.
“Why do you ask?” Alexander asked.
“I’ve not met many others with horns before,” Lillian said, “and she also had a new body to grapple with.”
“This is the ‘she’ y’all keep referring to, right?” he asked. “Like, who is this person?”
Serana raised her eyebrows. “She is not of this world,” she said. “Like you.”
“Yeah, I figured that much, but like…”
“She’s extraordinary,” Lillian said. “She has a way to turn people to her side, to have them walk by her side. It’s hard not to be drawn to her.”
“And she’s also a total pushover,” Tilly said, chomping down on some more jerky. “Cries at the drop of a hat.”
“What kind of saint is this lady?” Alexander asked.
“Liz,” Lillian said, “is —”
“Her name is Liz?”
“Yes,” Serana said. “It used to be Eliza, but she preferred Liz.”
“Huh.”
“Liz,” Lillian said, “the Demon Dragon Queen.”
“Liz the what?!”
“Liz,” Lillian said, “the Demon Dragon Queen.”
“Liz the what?!”
Lillian did that on purpose, the little troll