Page 18 of Mischief Maker
I find that I don’t want to leave her for the time it will take me to reach the temple and return, but this is the errand she’s asked me to go on.
So I set off into the valley, heading toward the sun and away from my temple. Unlike Faela, I am not bound by how fast my horse can travel, so I set off at a quick run and soon, I leave the village far behind me.
That night, I sleep high in a tree, slung between two branches. I hope that my sad girl was able to finish the chores today without me. When I remember the softness of her hair under my hand, my cock snaps to attention, and I’m forced to pump out a full, sticky white load in the middle of the woods before I can fall asleep.
Without a soft bed to rest on, I move slower the next day, so I draw lightly on my well of magic to speed up my pace. I will refill it when I return home.
Home.
That is a strange word, and not one I’ve ever used to refer to a place that is not my temple. And yet somehow, in the last few weeks, that rickety house and the hard bed have become my own. I’ve grown accustomed to waking up to Faela’s voice as she calls to Petal out in the field, and without it, I feel strange. Different. Not quite like myself.
I wonder what has happened to me.
At the end of the second day, the smell of the sea tells me I’m close to my destination. My mother’s temple lies high on a cliff overlooking the ocean, where her husband, my father, once ruled. I believe he has already gone on to oblivion, forgotten by the sailors who once prayed to him.
I hope that my mother is still there, that the belief of small people like Faela has kept her bound to this plane.
The towering columns of the shrine come into sight, and I run the rest of the way to the top of the cliff. The sun is starting to set, its rays spreading like a fan across the ocean. I walk up the many dozen steps to my great mother’s temple and approach the statue of her that stands at the center. It is not a very good likeness, but it will suffice to summon her.
I try to act casual as I approach. If there is one rule with gods, it is that they cannot and should not know your weaknesses. Even my mother has a vengeful side, with a meddling nature that can make her fearsome.
“Great goddess Lucia,” I begin, saying the words from memory. “Come to my aid, O mysterious mother of the Earth.”
I recite the rest of her long-winded summoning, and when I’m finished, I fall silent and wait. I can’t detect her presence here, but she is likely too weak to give off much of an aura. I wait some more and kick a rock, looking off toward the mountains where the farm is waiting for my return.
“You would deface my temple this way?” a deep woman’s voice asks me.
I turn around to face her slowly, tucking my hands behind my back. There she is—my mother, the goddess who carved me from a stone so many eons ago. She had wanted another toy for her entertainment, and I was an ideal way to challenge mortals with their own desires. She molded me into the perfect tool to torment them.
Her long gown trails across the stone floor behind her as she approaches me, waves of blonde hair cascading down her back. Voluptuous and beautiful. And dangerous.
“Kireth. I did not expect you.” She takes a lock of my hair in her hand and curls it around her finger. “If you are here, then you have been summoned, which means you have ventured out on what, one of your tasks?”
I smirk at her, knowing I must keep my true intentions here veiled.
“Indeed.” I roll my eyes a little just for flavor.
She tilts her head. “No happy reunion, then? No asking how your mother has been all this time?”
“You were here, I assumed,” I say, and she shoots me a dark look. I ought not to push her too far if I want her help, though.
“Idling while the humans forget,” she says. “But they haven’t forgotten you, have they?” I detect some jealousy in her voice. “What is your question, then, foolish Kireth?”
I crack my knuckles. I hope she can solve this mystery for me.
“There is a farm two days’ travel from here,” I begin. “It has been beset upon by a curse of some kind. Crops will not grow. Animals are sickly. Everything dies.”
She nods, as if this is all very routine. “It sounds like a curse to me,” she says. “So, where is the question?”
I huff. I was getting to it. “How do I stop it?”
Her surprise is apparent. “Stop it? Why would you care about that, my wild son?”
“My task is to find a way to save this farm from obliteration.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Such a generous request,” she says, and she sounds suspicious. “And your first thought was to come and summon me?”
I sigh impatiently. “The mortal has been very specific,” I say, and for the most part, that’s been true. “I have waylaid her quest many times before she thought to ask me to come to you.” I hope Lucia doesn’t detect my lie.
