This is kind of the idea behind the writing challenge entry - very much a 'throwaway' piece that has been bugging me recently. Probably just a combination of stress and not enough sleep...
“I can count the number of people who have done this willingly on the fingers of your left hand.”
I would have hid the mangled stump away, but was as glass to her gaze, transfixed. Self-mutilation had turned my hand into a key, a key to unlock her heart and make me her husband. Fate caressed my face with fingers than burned like ice. Her kiss numbed my lips, threatened to still my heart. Her kiss promised eternity, an eternity as consort to a God, and our child would be Peace.
But Destiny is a liar.
The world returned, in flames. There were shouts, cries, one clear voice from nearby.
“For God’s sake now! Now! Open the gates!”
The trickle of water I could see through the fire became a flood, a deluge, a hammer that beat me to the ground. There was laughter in the water, as if Poseidon himself rejoiced at the restored falls, but no trident was held out for me to grasp. I gasped, and the watery world faded from view.
I awoke in the centre of four bonfires, covered by a canopy of brilliant stars. The only other thing in my world was the bed of bracken beneath me, until a man leaned into my field of vision.
Destiny.
I struggled to rise, to strike him, but my limbs mutinied, preferring to rest. He smiled.
“You proved acceptable to my sister, at any rate, or you would not have been returned intact. Well, almost.”
He took my right hand and it was like the spread of sunlight across frost. Sensation, then movement, returned to my limbs, but the urge to attack him had passed. Destiny pulled me up into a sitting position and stepped back. I struggled to speak.
“You said I would be favoured. Husband to a God, father to a God. You took four fingers from my left hand as payment for the oracle.”
Destiny, twin brother of Fate, laughed. He was in the guise of a tall man, thin faced and narrow shouldered. Only his eyes betrayed him – like milky clouds drifting across a midnight sky. He spread his arms as if to encompass the whole world.
“And did I lie, Gustav Tyr? Favoured? Well, those sluice gates have not been used in a generation, and without the waters of Rannoch you would not have survived the passage between this world and the next. Rejoice man, you will be known as the moral husband of Fate for the rest of your life! Even now I can sense that she is with child, a child that in time will take her rightful place amongst the pantheon of Gods. Fate always gives birth to daughters, just as I always sire sons. Be thankful, as few moral women survive my offspring-”
“Thankful? Thankful for this?”
I gestured with the stump of my left hand…and stopped, amazed. It was bound in a crude dressing but there were clearly fingers there, although I couldn’t seem to move them. The dressing moved, squirmed, and fear gripped my heart. I held my hand out towards Destiny.
“What, what is this?”
“A gift from my sister, so you do not go through this world less than whole. Also a reminder that those who consort with the Gods are never quite the same thereafter.”
I pulled at the dressing, a strip from my shirt, with my teeth and right hand. Unwinding it, pulling it free…
I cried out.
The four fingers on my left hand wriggled; glistening worms that undulated and curled about each other, each with a life of its own. I felt sickness in my throat and gasped, breathing heavily.
“A blade! For pity’s sake!”
“I think not, Gustav Tyr, I think not. They are skulikos, and in time you’ll learn to control them, or at least have them do your bidding. I suggest you confine them within a stiff leather glove and practice away from prying eyes. Revulsion may not be unique to mortals but it certainly dominates your initial reactions.”
Swearing under my breath I began to wrap my new ‘fingers’, feeling them struggle against the cloth. I shivered with disgust and allowed Destiny to help me to my feet. Now I was upright I could see the other members of my party beyond the bonfires. They were huddled together as if for protection from the very light itself, but more fearful of the dark. I made to hail them but as I turned something felt wrong - there was a weight, a presence, about my nethers I could not explain. I cautiously prodded the front of my breeches while Destiny watched and arched one eyebrow.
“A priofis as well? I fear my sister wishes to make sure no mortal woman will have congress with you. Some would say it’s a mark of affection, but personally I call it mean-spirited.”
A mark of affection? I struggled with the buttons one-handed, heedless of exposing myself, and the loose-fitting breeches slid to my knees. Something glistened in the firelight, something with scales, something long and muscular…
I screamed. Destiny laughed.
- - - - -
The world around me dissolved into limbo, and I was alone with Fate. She smiled.
“I can count the number of people who have done this willingly on the fingers of your left hand.”
I would have hid the mangled stump away, but was as glass to her gaze, transfixed. Self-mutilation had turned my hand into a key, a key to unlock her heart and make me her husband. Fate caressed my face with fingers than burned like ice. Her kiss numbed my lips, threatened to still my heart. Her kiss promised eternity, an eternity as consort to a God, and our child would be Peace.
But Destiny is a liar.
The world returned, in flames. There were shouts, cries, one clear voice from nearby.
“For God’s sake now! Now! Open the gates!”
The trickle of water I could see through the fire became a flood, a deluge, a hammer that beat me to the ground. There was laughter in the water, as if Poseidon himself rejoiced at the restored falls, but no trident was held out for me to grasp. I gasped, and the watery world faded from view.
I awoke in the centre of four bonfires, covered by a canopy of brilliant stars. The only other thing in my world was the bed of bracken beneath me, until a man leaned into my field of vision.
Destiny.
I struggled to rise, to strike him, but my limbs mutinied, preferring to rest. He smiled.
“You proved acceptable to my sister, at any rate, or you would not have been returned intact. Well, almost.”
He took my right hand and it was like the spread of sunlight across frost. Sensation, then movement, returned to my limbs, but the urge to attack him had passed. Destiny pulled me up into a sitting position and stepped back. I struggled to speak.
“You said I would be favoured. Husband to a God, father to a God. You took four fingers from my left hand as payment for the oracle.”
Destiny, twin brother of Fate, laughed. He was in the guise of a tall man, thin faced and narrow shouldered. Only his eyes betrayed him – like milky clouds drifting across a midnight sky. He spread his arms as if to encompass the whole world.
“And did I lie, Gustav Tyr? Favoured? Well, those sluice gates have not been used in a generation, and without the waters of Rannoch you would not have survived the passage between this world and the next. Rejoice man, you will be known as the moral husband of Fate for the rest of your life! Even now I can sense that she is with child, a child that in time will take her rightful place amongst the pantheon of Gods. Fate always gives birth to daughters, just as I always sire sons. Be thankful, as few moral women survive my offspring-”
“Thankful? Thankful for this?”
I gestured with the stump of my left hand…and stopped, amazed. It was bound in a crude dressing but there were clearly fingers there, although I couldn’t seem to move them. The dressing moved, squirmed, and fear gripped my heart. I held my hand out towards Destiny.
“What, what is this?”
“A gift from my sister, so you do not go through this world less than whole. Also a reminder that those who consort with the Gods are never quite the same thereafter.”
I pulled at the dressing, a strip from my shirt, with my teeth and right hand. Unwinding it, pulling it free…
I cried out.
The four fingers on my left hand wriggled; glistening worms that undulated and curled about each other, each with a life of its own. I felt sickness in my throat and gasped, breathing heavily.
“A blade! For pity’s sake!”
“I think not, Gustav Tyr, I think not. They are skulikos, and in time you’ll learn to control them, or at least have them do your bidding. I suggest you confine them within a stiff leather glove and practice away from prying eyes. Revulsion may not be unique to mortals but it certainly dominates your initial reactions.”
Swearing under my breath I began to wrap my new ‘fingers’, feeling them struggle against the cloth. I shivered with disgust and allowed Destiny to help me to my feet. Now I was upright I could see the other members of my party beyond the bonfires. They were huddled together as if for protection from the very light itself, but more fearful of the dark. I made to hail them but as I turned something felt wrong - there was a weight, a presence, about my nethers I could not explain. I cautiously prodded the front of my breeches while Destiny watched and arched one eyebrow.
“A priofis as well? I fear my sister wishes to make sure no mortal woman will have congress with you. Some would say it’s a mark of affection, but personally I call it mean-spirited.”
A mark of affection? I struggled with the buttons one-handed, heedless of exposing myself, and the loose-fitting breeches slid to my knees. Something glistened in the firelight, something with scales, something long and muscular…
I screamed. Destiny laughed.
