Pex, Cardinal of Aphrodite POV

A scream rips from within the Manor capturing our attention and forcing us to exchange glances. As one, we home in on the senior guard with a mix of accusation and askance.

“When I draw him away, Cardinal, push through the doors and put a stop to whatever torture is being done,” whispers Alba. Before I can utter or hiss a word in protest, she hurries around the side of the manor, the senior guard trailing behind.

Another long painful scream and the remaining guard turns his head towards the doors. I surge past him. His attempt at grabbing me is futile as Ottar has him first. I chuckle as I briefly observe the Captain hanging back, dancing from one foot onto another. I guess he didn’t expect our first meeting with the island’s leadership to be this forceful.

The main foyer area is devoid of dignitaries and servants, although well-appointed with luxury furniture, I note as I slither by in haste. Another scream draws me deeper into the building until I reach a large room, a bedroom I would guess because of the bed canopy rising above the crowd. Certainly not a torture chamber. Humans fill the room, groups of twos and threes in the main, and this congregating doesn’t permit a polite entrance. Another scream reverberates around the room.

As I push forward one or turn to object and then cower out of my way. My size, I am certain. Snake Kin race in the flesh, probably. The deathly visage of the dull grey of my snakeskin, possibly.

“What torture is this? Clear the room!” I shout.

A couple scurries away. Servants would be my guess. Others who are present ease towards the doorless doorway yet are unwilling to vacate entirely, and I now observe why.

Full of bluff and bluster, a huge human male draws himself away from the side of the bed… until a slender hand lacking any physical strength restrains him. The owner is a sweating human female lying in discomfort on the bed between disturbing bouts of pain judging by her scream… His eyes flash open and away from me towards the female, his other hand patting her hand. He mumbles soft words to no avail as her fingers whiten around his forearm. Another scream.

Taking that as an invitation, I stare down at the plumb human female currently attending to the screaming one until she backs off.

“Don’t you be hurting my girl now, you beast!”

I jab my head forward, revealing a glimpse of my teeth.

Before one of these fools recovers and thinks to stab me, I cast [Sooth Birthing] another of my Goddess’ em… stolen spells.

The silence is instant. The relaxing of the woman’s face into a smile instantly grants me authority in this room. Simply because her male commands everyone else, while she commands her male.

“Thank you,” she says while wiping her face, straightening up her bedclothes, her bedsheets… everything. The plumb woman returns to take over the fussing and return an appearance of order and control to the proceedings.

“Relax, please. While the pain is manageable, the birthing process must still proceed. I will investigate…”

I don’t wait for her or her male’s consent. They have already surrendered to me, for this task, at least. Behind me I hear a kerfuffle. More guards? Someone telling others to leave the room. What does this matter?

Dilation? Not complete! My eyes home in on the plumb woman. “Why encourage the birth when not at full dilation?”

She squeaks and then catches herself. “She has three in her tummy. I can hear the heartbeat of two of the babes. The third is faint, more desperate… I fear dying… maybe the cord is around the poor child’s neck? A guess only, so I thought to birth them as quickly as possible.”

She wrings her hands and glances at her mistress with tears in her eyes. Throughout her report, she doesn’t meet the eyes of the husband.

“Three? You would think them smaller and able to make their way without full dilation… There must be something else.” My hands feel the taut belly of the female, while my tongue drags over the flesh, feeling for vibration. Discomfort. One of the three especially. “The magic I cast encourages dilation and the suppression of pain, yet not feeling. I will need your help.” My head rises. As our eyes meet, she, I am certain, forgets to breathe.

“Yes…” she whimpers.

I wave her over to me. “You must observe her entrance, the dilation and if you see any crowning or the like. I am going to try and turn the baby who I believe is plugging up the exit.”

“Turn the baby…?”

“The three are somewhat entangled. I don’t know by how much. Ready?”

She nods and I begin. My hands push and nudge, gentle is my touch. Simple suggestions to the babes within to move, with my tongue sensing any agitation.

“Do you need any help, Cardinal?”

Alba? When did she enter the room? How long have I been at this?

“Crowning! I see hair, lots of hair!” says the plumb woman.

“Push,” I hiss to the mother to be.

Then the howls of a newborn fill the room. The other two are now lining up. No. They are gone.

My face turns in time to see the plumb woman juggling two newborns, with Alba’s hands caressing and corralling to keep either from falling.

“Little buggers were keener than their brother!” she says. “Almost caught me out.”

A second howl of a newborn rings out, but no third. I need to trust Alba as my attention returns to the mother. The sad, happy, tired smile of a new mother greets me. My tongue forks out and I retract immediately. Acceptance. The mother’s body spent, she endured long enough to give birth.

A hand grips my arm, no, squeezes my arm. He meant to hurt, except my Goddess’ magic protects me.

“She… the light in her eyes fades. Don’t leave me my Island Queen.”

A weak smile and her rising hand aims toward his cheek. Partway there, the hand falls back to the bed.

“Tell her I can heal with magic, although there will be a risk. But also tell her, without the will to live magic will do nothing but prolong her grief.”

He examines me, an intense gaze that requires all my determination to hold my position and not recoil. A blink of his eyes is all the feedback I receive. I have passed his test. His head is beside hers. He whispers into her ears only.

The plumb woman, tears streaming down her face, has attended to things like umbilical cord and afterbirth and the post-birth tidy up by the time I examine the post-birth trauma.

“Any bleeding?” I ask.

“Some, but not abnormal. Yet her face is so pale, the sheen of sweat… Oh, I can’t look upon her anymore, yet I must. I tended her mother when she was born and had a joyful hand in her raising… In the beginning, they hated each other, you know, those two…”

I could of course simply cast a healing spell, as we did with Ottar on the ship and other times, yet the spell isn’t all give, the body must offer something to support the mending if casually applied. Like any bleeding wound, application of the spell to the injury is a far better strategy, in terms of healing, magic use and minimising contribution requirements from the suffering body. Underlying all of this, though, is an extremely basic requirement, the person must wish to live. Flesh, soul, and spirit, are three parts that make a whole. Hearing them exchange words, she is still content to say goodbye. She needs hope…

My hand rests upon the woman midwife’s shoulder. She shuffles to one side at my urging, not knowing my purpose. I am certain, unable to even think clearly in her current state. Reaching inside the mother with my hand is simple, although messy. The dilation is still in force and will be for some time yet. I am blind to the exact location of the bleeding, yet from the inside, rather than outside, I apply a minimum of a [Healing] spell while I observe her face. I suspect the transition from [Sooth Birthing] to nothing adds to her woe by foreshadowing a false doom, thinking her life is now over given the return of post birth discomfort or possibly worse pain.

With the stolen magic is also knowledge, yet this is my first time applying such childbirth wisdom and I welcome the application of healing magic, a practice I am more familiar with. Her eyes open with surprise and then she closes them and her head lolls against her husband’s.

“The babies are healthy, Cardinal, the last frail, yet fighting for life,” says Alba.

The woman carer bounces up full of life and starts buzzing around the room, busy with this and then that. She races out of the bedroom. “We have milk for all three ready and warming. I will see to my mistress after I feed her precious ones.”

“They should feed from their mother…”

Alba doesn’t finish her sentence as I wave for her to stop and notice her bite her bottom lip. The male is considering his options… the frowning on his face is not a positive sign as he takes several assessing glances at his unconscious Island Queen.

“Her body needs rest from my healing magic, no more. Listen to her heartbeat before you make any rash judgements.”

His eyes lock onto mine as his ear lowers to her chest. After a moment, he rises to his feet and I uncurl my snake tail to match his height, no more and no less. I am trying to send a clear signal we are equals, at least in this room.

“Follow me,” he says while pausing a moment to stare at Alba before moving on.

His boots stomp on the stone floor of the manor. His gait, I realise, is a rolling one, like the Captain’s, as if still aboard ship and fighting the steadfastness of the non-ocean. He takes a seat, high back and in the middle of four others, all in a row at the far end of the main foyer. I notice there are several similar chairs around the room and no other guests present take advantage of them. In three of the four chairs lounge faces I am familiar with, those I intimidated in the bedroom…

He places his long curving sword across his knees, and I am once again under his gaze.

“Who are you? Or more to the point, what are you by the high seas and I have witnessed.” His finger points to his right eye. “Many a strange thing in my time!”

“I am one of the many Kin from the Northern Continent, Snake Kin. I…”

“Yes, we know of Kin. Why are you so ugly… dead grey, like walking death…” Snickering laughter fills the room. My appearance is not my fault, I try to say, yet can’t find the words. None have attacked me like this before… my appearance, being Snake Kin the same. Has he seen my race before? Knows this grey is a curse…? But how? When? Warm tears roll down the dull grey snakeskin of my cheeks. How can this be? I try to raise my head to speak.

Beside me I feel her intensity, her rage, more than see.

“Is this how you address one who has saved the mother of your children?” demands Alba.

There is a deafening crack and one of the two doors crashes inwards. I sense the clumsy work of Ottar and my heart sings with joy. My defender enters the fray.

“I have found Pex, the Cardinal of Aphrodite, nothing less than forthright and helpful when aboard my ship, with a sense of humour to boot. I demand you withdraw your words, sir. They are uncalled for given the service she has rendered, especially from the Chief Governor of the Island.”

Captain Dekens speaks for me. This isn’t his fight and picking on my adversary will do him and his ship immense harm going forward. Why risk such for me?

The governor looks left and then right, taps the sword lying across his lap and climbs to his feet while placing the sword across the arms of his high-back chair.

“First, I apologise. Not because I fear the giant who it is plain to see would defend you with his life, nor this riddle.” He flings a hand towards Alba. “Not even the word of a kingdom ship captain, truly a surprise considering the discomfort I could levy upon him and his crew. No. I apologise because I didn’t intend to hurt you, but protect those I am responsible for with every means possible.”

The heels of his boots land heavily upon the floor as he strolls about, again an examination.

“You, though, have proven more dangerous than I thought. How does a creature, such as yourself, bind a human and a giant to her and in the matter of several days, perhaps longer as I have not heard your full story yet, gain the respect of a kingdom ship captain?” His hands, palms up, fling wide as he surveys the audience. Then he snaps his eyes upon mine with an intensity that almost wilts the strength from and hence the upright positioning of my tail.

“I am what I am,” I say. “My Goddess guides me, and nothing more…”

His fingers curl to touch his chin while he nods. “Your Goddess… Can you show her to me?” Again, his arms fling wide, and he swivels about checking the room. “Reveal this being to us that guides you well enough to infect others to win their blind loyalty?”

“She does not infect. She is still growing…”

He throws his head back and roars with laughter. “Growing? This is her power over mortals as a babe? What would her powers be when she reaches her full powers?”

He raises an eyebrow. I try to keep the distaste from my lips, his challenge of the truth an insult to me and my Goddess. The urge to engulf and rip his head off at the neck grows stronger with each of his pressing words. This feeling of growing rage within me, a new sensation, frightening. No. This is another test. The first was attacking me personally. This second is about my Goddess. No, not my Goddess, my belief in my Goddess…

“She is not a babe, yet her power grows with the number of followers who believe in her. With this growth, one day we hope she will have enough power to walk amongst us. Until then, she visits me in dreams or apparitions. I know she is real as worship of her, gifts me her wisdom and her magic.”

Hands behind his back, one palm tapping the wrist of the other, he takes his time to return to his chair and in one smooth motion; he grabs his sword and swings around to resume his seat. I catch the look he flashes to at least one of those sharing the chairs beside him.

“You surrender your freedom for this servitude? This worship of your Goddess for the mere interpretation of her wisdom and some magic. I would question the bargain you have struck. This island is our freedom, and we answer to no one, certainly no goddess.”

“Chief Governor, if I may speak,” says Captain Dekens.

His interruption is timely as the urge to eat the smirking human before me grows, as does the rage within, despite knowing this is his ploy. He is testing my poise, and my dedication, although these are only guesses as to his true purpose.

“Yes, you may, my good captain. I feel the Cardinal needs some thinking time…” Again, with the smirk, deliberate, as he faces me and not the captain.

“Two fleets are sailing towards the islands, two fleets with unknown motives and large enough to swamp your island with blood if they so desire.”

The Governor grabs at the sword across his knees and chuckles. “That matter is well in hand.” He sweeps his hand first left and then right. “We are a Council. I am but a figurehead at the prow, you might say, yet all of us are of and for the islands.” His eyes land upon Alba once again. They then return to address the captain. “We have sent a ship to each fleet to ask their intentions and arrange docking for a certain number of their ships if that is what they require. So, the matter is well in hand. This matter of goddess, worship, and magic is still fantastical. My learned friend to the right of me, a magic user of some prodigious talent, questions such spellcasting feats. He tells me without the study of magical ways, your magic seems to be simply a gift to be given out to any who asks. What next? Free food and shelter, happiness for all?”

Alba steps forward half a step, the back of her hand slides against mine while facing the Chief Governor. “Magic has many forms. I worship the Goddess, yet I also studied a magic called Sorcery, which I know is most likely different from the magic of your learned friend. No one magic is best, as no one magic is poor. Like any craft, the craftsperson is the important piece in any design.”

“Allene Corser, finally she speaks,” he says.

I feel her hand tremble within mine. At the mention of her name, she must have reached behind her…

“I thought to sail under the noses of all, yet you still recognise me,” she says while looking about the room.

He chuckles. She wears a mask of fear; I hope. Yet the Truth Realm would prevent such deception from being cast by the Goddess’ Prophet, although his doubt about worship would place him at the extreme of people in the world and certainly no friend or even acquaintance of ours… Interesting.

“You do not need to be concerned. In fact, as your father’s heir, you inherit his seat.” His eyes briefly land upon the empty chair beside him. His face returns with a knowing smirk. “Although, with his dying breath, he disowned you and didn’t wish for you to inherit, but that is not our way. Blood is blood!” With that said, the entire room, as if on cue, fills with the words, three boisterous times and then done.

Alba takes another step forward, then several more, chin up, accepting. Her acting is perfection for now. Reluctant yet accepting her obligation, one which she possibly never knew about. Being cast upon the northern continent explains a lot about the former Allene Corser and her desperation for love, always a conundrum for the Goddess when she walked upon our land.

As Alba nee Allene seats herself, the room once again chants, ‘blood is blood’.

“We welcome the return of the Corser family to the governorship of the islands and accept your wisdom in all things as long as you accept the vote of the majority.”

“I do,” says Allene, without a moment of hesitation.

A general cheer raises the roof of the manor and each of the governors, including our tormentor, leave their seat to shake her hand and return to their chairs.

“As my first piece of wisdom, I would suggest the Cardinal cast a far-seeing spell on one or all of us when we reach a vantage point to observe both fleets. We could observe them from afar before your emissaries return and therefore prepare all the better.”

“I can vouch for the spell governor,” says Captain Dekens. “The spell was the difference between finding the islands or being lost after a sea monster chased us off course.”

All four governors lean forward, yet only one speaks. “Your ship outran a sea monster while heading into the Calm?” he lounges back into his seat, a wide, disbelieving grin upon his face.

“No, we, well, mainly Ottar slew the sea monster,” says the Captain, his eyes not straying from the doubting one.

The governor casts a studying look in Ottar’s direction. Too tall to enter the Manor proper, although with the loss of one of the front doors, his head pokes inside on a propped elbow. His light skin face is a picture of humble truth.

“And how may I ask?”

The Captain looks about him, realising; I believe after being spoken, his words would sound fantastic, wondrous. Unbelievable?

“He swung the anchor on its chain, smashing the seas monster’s head.”

The room breaks out into soft laughter, yet upon seeing their governor remain passive, this shortly after dies out.

“Your ship is not that long. Counterbalance? Then, of course, there is avoiding the swing going through the sails and mast, let alone the side of the ship. An incredible feat. Worth many free drinks at a tavern, I must say. If true…”

The Captain’s hand rests on my shoulder. “Alba cast a strength boosting spell upon Ottar and the crew provided the counterbalance once they took down the sail. I operated the tiller to stall the ship in a wave trough. Sitting in wait as it were, for our one chance…”

A room full of people, listening, holding their breath, the silence except for his voice; eerie. Are they engrossed with the story or ready to shout down his words as lies?

“I wonder if we separated all your crew and asked them if a sea monster attacked and if so, how did they survive? Would they all answer the same way? Or during your voyage here did you practice storytelling…?”

The Captain slaps his thigh. “Are you calling me a liar? A braggart?”

“I am being cautious. Your ship arrives ahead of two fleets. You have a fantastic story of survival to warm our feelings towards you. I am trying to discern your intent.”

I raise my head and survey the room before returning to face the Chief Governor. “We have no intent. We will purchase supplies and be on our way.” I slither towards Ottar and sense, using my tongue, Captain Dekens following. As for Alba, I am certain the Prophet of Aphrodite will extricate herself before the Captain’s ship leaves port.

“Wait!” he calls.

I try to press on, Ottar’s hopeful eyes urge me to. I swivel about to face the Chief Governor once again.

“There are two matters which you must be, held accountable for. The far-seeing spell and recovery of my wife from childbirth.”

What nonsense is this? Goddess, please give me strength. “Your new governor can cast the spell if she so desires, while your wife should now recover under loving care. I see no reason to delay our departure. In fact, given your accusations against us, I would think you would help us load the supplies we need yourself.” As I turn away to find the door once again, I hear a ribbon thin weak pleading voice behind me.

“Husband, ask her to stay. I need her. I trust her.”

All eyes, including mine, turn towards the Island Queen leaning up against the hallway entrance, a long tent-like gown covering her modesty, her post birth stomach pushing a curve of cloth outwards from underneath. Her midwife wrapping an arm around her midriff for extra support.

He rushes to her and whispers in her ear. Then growls at the midwife under his breath. Both women shuffle down the hallway until out of sight.

“My wife asks you to stay.”

The request is simple, no pre-amble, no conditions and, more to the point, no appreciation for the saving of her life and her babes.

I place my hands on my hips and rise to my full height. The room takes a step away from me and releases a collective breath. “Are my efforts worthy of a thank you?”

He blinks and leans forward in his chair, catching his sword a moment before the weapon drops to the floor. “For what? For defending these islands, for interrogating a ragtag assortment of beings arriving shortly before two fleets of ships are due to reach our vulnerable shores. What would you do in my place?”

“Allow us to leave. That can be your thank you. I assure you, your wife, regardless of her self-assessment, will recover with rest and good food. We told you about the two fleets.” My self-control slips, the tip of my tail writhes in agitation… The idiot, without our arrival, he and his governors wouldn’t have known about the two fleets, hardly unworthy actions of new arrivals. He is not a steady hand, there is no reasonableness in his questions or actions so far and yet all in attendance support him…

Alba leans towards the governor and whispers in his ear. Some nodding and then he addresses me once more.

“You can leave. The governors have business to attend to.”

I open my mouth and then close it, choosing instead to escape this madness. Once I join Ottar outside the manor with the Captain at our side, I turn to him.

“How long will it take to restock and depart this place before he changes his mind?”

“My second mate should already be well underway with that task, although we hoped to recruit more crew, which will take time unless Ottar continues on with us?” He flashes Ottar a winning smile.

“I follow the Cardinal, where she goes, I go,” he rumbles. As I appreciate his steadfast loyalty I notice sweat upon his brow and glistening droplets running down his neck. The sun is upon him, relentless, unforgiving, and I curse myself as a fool for not considering his discomfort. For Snake Kin, the opposite, we cherish the warmth and abhor the cold.

“Alright,” I say. “Let’s find your second mate. Shouldn’t take long in a port of this size.”