June 1960, Regensburg, Germany
“Stupid, useless cow. I mean, what kind of Goddess is she, huh? Can’t even save her own people.” Although intense emotion always brought out the Scottish brogue in his voice, it was the slurring from the copious amounts of alcohol consumption which made Mordecai harder to understand than usual. Not that his brothers in his Order had any issue deciphering the words – nor the sentiment behind them. The rage and grief emanating from their liege was almost palpable.
Mordecai saw the concerned looks his Order threw each other, as well as felt the low-level buzz along the Order link indicating they were having some kind of silent communication – one he wasn’t privy to. He snorted into the high-strength spirit he had been downing like water for the past four hours; ever since the shock-wave of death had hit him like a tsunami. His Order – the Order of Valhalla – had been posted to Germany on a semi-permanent basis for more than a decade after the end of the Second World War. Although the majority of the killing had stopped, there was still much to be done; so much hurt to heal, so much peace to bring.
It was the same no matter where he was sent; he and his paladins followed need around the world. They had just returned that very day from a month-long vigil in India after a huge earthquake had devastated the Himalayas. He had thought he might gain a measure of relief being back on the banks of the Danube, but that wasn’t to be the case. Sometimes he felt he would drown in the misery that continually battered his mind, body, and soul. In fact, if it weren’t for the four very different men who had been his constant companions for the last sixteen hundred years, he was sure he would have crumpled under the weight of responsibility by now. And as of a few hours ago? He was now sure of it.
Even from across the ocean, he had felt the shuddering of the world as it tried to absorb so much death. But it was impossible to do so. Such injustice, such horror, could not be absorbed. He had fallen to his knees and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach before his brain had misfired and he had fallen into a series of seizures. His paladins had been hard-pressed to get enough vitality into him so he could remain conscious. And once they had succeeded and he was able to process what the huge tear in the fabric of the world meant? He wished they hadn’t succeeded. But they were a stubborn bunch – just as he was.
Now, four hours later, here he was, in a bar in Regensburg along the banks of the Danube river, doing his damnedest to numb his soul to the echoes of death. So far, it hadn’t worked. His stupid soul kept reaching for the pain and the grief, trying its best to help soothe and heal. Because that was its purpose. That was his purpose. And that only served to piss Mordecai off even more. Because he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Because some bloody woman decided thousands of years ago that a chosen few should sacrifice themselves so her greatest creation – nature – could thrive in all its glorious forms. And that brought him back nicely to his earlier sentiments;
“Selfish, useless woman. I mean, she’s even more useless than the other gods these pitiful wretches worship,” he slammed his hand down on the sticky table. “I mean, at least they sometimes make an appearance. A miracle here, a reincarnation there. But Mother Nature? Has anyone seen or heard from her in centuries? What about her precious Custodians, huh? Whatever happened to the one who was supposed to walk the earth at all times? Just another broken promise.”
“Okay, big guy …” Mordecai felt strong but gentle hands attempt to unclasp his fingers from the jar. “I think you’ve had enough of old man Heinrich’s moonshine,” Aiden said.
“No. Mine!” Mordecai growled, snatching the dirty jar of clear liquid back. “Seriously Aid,” he threw an arm over his Captain’s shoulder. “Don’t you think it takes a special kind of cold to turn your back on your own people – your own children? I mean, that’s what we are, right? Her children? She created us to watch over this precious world of hers. To make sure all this beauty we see and feel remains balanced. But where is she when we’re literally dying by the hundreds at the hands of our own kind? Where is her responsibility?”
“I don’t know, my lord. But I’m pretty sure cursing her name isn’t going to endear you to her,” Aiden replied, motioning behind him.
It seemed Aiden had drawn the short straw and had been put in charge of talking sense into his drunken liege. Well, that was too damn bad for Aid because Mordecai had no intention of sobering up anytime soon. Even as he had the thought, a new glass of clear liquid exchanged hands from Bastien to Aiden’s. Mordecai didn’t need to sniff the glass to know this particular clear liquid was water and not the special homemade poison Heinrich concocted in his basement. Mordecai went to push the glass away but his potentate just thrust it back;
“Drink it,” Aiden demanded.
Mordecai narrowed his eyes, “No.”
Aiden sighed, “My lord ...”
Mordecai snarled, “Will you stop calling me that?! You know it pisses me off!”
“Well, perhaps if you stopped acting like the Lord of the Manor throwing a tantrum, I wouldn’t have to,” Aiden informed him, voice stern.
“Tantrum?! You think that’s what this is?” He choked a little, half laughing and half sobbing. “This isn’t a tantrum. This is ... hopelessness,” he whispered, head lowering. “I can’t ... I mean, what I am supposed to do? I just ...” His stuttering this time was more a consequence of his chaotic mind rather than the alcohol and he felt his paladins rally around him, physically as well as mentally. Four broad hands were placed on his person and he felt warmth sliding across his skin, temporarily warding off the chill that death wrought. His mind cleared a little, their shared vitality sobering him up faster than water or caffeine could ever hope to do.
“Mordecai ... brother. I know you’re in pain. We can feel it – feel you – remember? It is our duty and our privilege. Just as it is yours to accept this tragedy and begin to heal it,” Madigan’s warm brown eyes were beseeching as well as reproachful and Mordecai felt a trickle of shame seep in.
How could he forget for even one moment that his paladins carried a burden just as heavy as he did? If not more? For they rarely received the accolades and thanks they were once afforded. Modern society had a lot to answer for.
“We’re not saying you aren’t entitled to a good drink – hell, a good rage,” Madigan continued, “But cursing the one person who might actually be able to help, really isn’t wise.”
Mordecai grunted; wise or not, it was all he could think to do at the moment. He was a true believer – always had been. Whereas most humans thought of Gods and Goddesses in a symbolic or spiritual sense, the Great Mother was a literal being in their society. It was common knowledge that Mother Nature had created pretty much everything and resided in Otherworld – a realm beyond the physical, sure. But a world that was real nonetheless. Her realm, or realms, were known to be the very first worlds ever created, with the one they now occupied being made for the express purpose of nature.
“Really, Mad? You really think she has any intention of helping? Where has her help been for her fallen children all these years, huh? The warden brethren turning against nature and each other, becoming chades,” he spat out, the word tasting like ashes on his tongue.
“I can’t answer that. None of us can. But perhaps asking instead of swearing might produce better results,” Madigan gently scolded again.
Mordecai wanted to feel annoyed with his very spiritual and soft-spoken friend, but he couldn’t summon the energy. His righteous anger brought on by the booze was starting to wear off and the soul-wrenching grief was trying to push its way back into his soul again. Palming the dirty jar again, he tossed it back with one smooth motion before his knights could stop him. He felt their collective groan but also their resignation and support. He knew they would stand beside him all night and watch him wallow before picking him up and dusting him off, if only to repeat the whole thing all over again.
“I would listen to your vassal if I were you. He speaks wise words.”
A soft, feminine voice spoke from behind him, the cadence making him shiver in its intensity. He had never heard a voice quite like it; husky and lilting. He felt his body inexplicitly hardening and was both anxious and excited to turn and see who belonged to the sound. A series of gasps from his paladins had him even more intrigued and he quickly turned, facing the source of the voice. He was promptly spellbound.
Her hair was as red as the fiery heart of the earth itself and just as wild, he thought. The long tresses curled and fell in organised chaos over her slender, pale shoulders, finally coming to rest past her hourglass hips. His eyes followed the natural curves of her body, traversing intriguing, rounded lines and a desirably full bust. A graceful neck preceded a surprisingly stubborn-looking chin and a pair of naturally red lips. A heart-shaped face held sharp cheekbones and the most mesmerising eyes he had ever seen. They weren’t blue or green or even grey but something in between. Overall, she was the most extraordinarily beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.
“Ma’am?” he found himself inquiring, after recalling her earlier remark.
“Ma’am?” she repeated, her siren’s voice sending shivers throughout his body. “Ma’am won’t be necessary,” she assured him. “But you can call me Goddess.”
Goddess? What the fuck? One shared look with his knights and he knew they were thinking along the same lines he was; the woman may be beautiful but she was clearly deranged. He felt his hungry body, yearning for distraction, begin to wane with the realisation.
“So what? Deranged is much more fun between the sheets,” Tobias, the ingrate of the group, commented in his typically brash fashion.
Mordecai snorted at that, “Are you seriously suggesting I bed this woman when our society is on the brink of collapse and nature is spinning out of balance?”
He felt Tobias’s mental shrug through the Order bond, “What can you really do from here? We’re on the first ship across the Channel in the morning, then the first flight from London to Australia after that. The flight alone will take almost forty hours with all those stops. It will be three days before we’re even within the minimal distance it will take for you to start actively repairing the tears in the fabric of the earth from all the slaughter. Not to mention the tears in the souls. Why not take some solace where you can?”
Mordecai shook his head but was unable to deny the interest his body was taking in the ethereal beauty in front of him. He wasn’t one for using women – or men for that matter. But he couldn’t deny the desperation he was feeling to know something other than the gut-wrenching pain, still trying its hardest to suffocate him as he as sat there.
“Well?” The stunning creature in front of him inquired.
“Well, what?” he managed to stutter out.
“Goddess?” A red brow arched perfectly as she both prompted him and seemed to pose a question.
He was silent for a second, gauging the sincerity of the female’s words before he bent over and laughed so hard he thought he may actually rupture something. It seemed that alcohol was still well and truly in his system. “Goddess, huh? Delusions of grandeur much?” He said when he was finally able to speak.
She merely smiled, “On the contrary. You asked – rather forcefully – to speak with the Great Mother. Well, here I am.”
“Here you are,” he repeated. “Here she is,” he pointed out to his four paladins who were still standing close by and watching him with a mix of pity, sadness, and humour. They too thought the woman was crazy but their nudging still showed their support of him taking some time with her.
Mordecai allowed his eyes to rove over the short woman in the forest-green robe, over what looked to be a simple dress of brown. Her red hair contrasted outrageously with the green and he felt his fingers flex with the need to gather it against his palms and test its softness. There was no denying she would prove to be a happy distraction for a few hours. Feeling like a selfish prick, for isn’t that what he had called the Great Mother a few moments ago? Selfish? He rose to his feet and promptly felt his head give a sickening spin as he struggled valiantly not to throw up on his shoes. Damn Heinrich and his homemade liquor!
“Would you like some extra vitality, Sir?” Bastien asked, ever so helpful.
Mordecai felt himself grumble, “Will you get out of my head? If I’m going to wallow in a warm body instead of the bottom of a bottle, then I’d like some privacy ... if you please,” he gritted his teeth in his mind, feeling amusement but also assent as the link was muted practically to nothing. He knew his paladins wouldn’t venture too far – either physically or mentally. But they would heed his request for privacy. They strived to allow each other as much of that as possible even within the confines and intimacy of the bond.
“Okay, Goddess. How would you like to do this?” He asked, pulling himself to his full height of six-foot-five.
Interesting irises roamed over his frame from head to toe and though he knew he was physically fit and imposing, he felt as though she found him lacking in some way. And why that made him feel like shrivelling up, he had no clue. Why should a stranger’s opinion of him matter? The woman was about to have sex with a stranger, out of wedlock. A big no-no in their current time. But go back a few centuries and it had been commonplace. Mordecai suspected it would change yet again in another few years. It was the cycle of the world. If anyone understood life-cycles, it was him – a keeper of death.
“And who said I was going to lay with you, warrior?” That husky voice held amusement and seemed to read his thoughts.
“Ah ... forgive me, what did you have in mind, then?” He asked, politely. See, he could be polite if he needed to be.
“I thought perhaps we could talk. You seemed to have much to say just moments ago,” she pointed out.
Talk? The crazy lady wanted to talk? Mordecai felt his interest waning but managed to hold onto his automatic sharp retort. What did he have to lose? He was stuck in post-genocidal Germany, half drunk on illegal spirits while his fellow wardens turned on each other and tore each other apart a half a world away. “Shall we sit?” he gestured to the grimy table behind him.
She sat gracefully, looking like a polished jewel in the midst of a shit pile and he wondered again how such a rare beauty could be in such an establishment in the first place. “Drink?” he offered, indicating to the remaining full jar on the table
She scrunched up her nose, looking rather adorable, “No. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, making eye contact, “It sounded as if you were having a crisis of faith,” she then prompted.
“A crisis of faith?” He scoffed, “I guess you could call it that. Empty figureheads tend to do that to me.”
Red eyebrows arched perfectly over wide, blue-grey eyes, “I assume you are referring to the Goddess you spoke of. You are disappointed in her.”
“‘The Goddess,’“ he quoted. “I thought you would have me believe that was you.”
“And I thought you would have me believe it isn’t. Or rather, that you do not want it to be,” came her prompt reply.
He eyed her for a moment, taking in her sincere yet stoic countenance. The woman was clearly not mentally sound. But if she was not going to offer her body as solace as he had originally assumed, then perhaps she could act as a surrogate for his true anger and he could still gain some sort of catharsis from the encounter.
“Alright. Goddess ...” he tipped his head in deference in her direction, earning a nod in return.
“Where would you like to start?” she demurred.
“With the senseless slaughter of your children,” he ground out.
The fickle woman was already shaking her head, red hair somehow managing to shimmer even in the dull, artificial light of the dingy tavern. “Not my children; you wardens are my warriors, my guardians. Not my children.”
Mordecai felt his hand freeze midway to his mouth, the jar of clear liquid shaking a little. Wardens? How did she know that word? He thought back to his earlier ravings. He had been rather vocal, it was true, and he couldn’t quite recall if they had included him naming his brethren so overtly. But given he was a drunk Scotsman in a German-speaking tavern, he hadn’t exactly been worried about being overheard. He must have used the term unthinkingly. Deciding to fully embrace the moment as the strange woman across from him apparently was, he replied;
“Semantics,” he waved a hand.
“Semantics? No. Not at all. Big difference, as a matter of fact. You were tasked with the burden of maintaining the balance between the domains of the world. I created your ancestors, it is true. But I did not birth them. Not like my Custodians.”
Mordecai had to hand it to her – she sure knew her stuff. She had obviously been observing them for some time to overhear so much of their society. He was going to have to talk to his Order about the potential danger of a woman with her knowledge. But for now, he couldn’t deny he was enjoying the encounter.
“Your precious custodians of nature who have not been seen for a couple of years now. I thought they were always supposed to walk the earth?”
Her eyes darkened and for a moment, he swore he saw them swirl like a barely-contained tornado, before she spoke; “Circumstances change.”
Mordecai snorted, feeling his anger bloom rich and dark once more, “Convenient,” he spat.
Her back stiffened, shoulders straightening in a snap, before she sighed, the sound escaping her lips, regretfully. “I feel your pain, my warrior,” she murmured, softly. “I feel every pain – everywhere, and all of the time. How could I not? I am not cold or careless or selfish as you would so conveniently believe. I simply cannot control everything, everywhere, all of the time. I am all-knowing but not all-controlling.”
Mordecai shook his head, “You see, I find that hard to believe. How can the Mother of all creation not be in control of her creations?”
“Dana.”
“What?” Mordecai was surprised enough by the abrupt change in topic that he momentarily lost his anger.
The stunning woman smiled at him, humour evident in her clear eyes, “My name is Dana. If we are going to continue our discussion, I’d like you to call me Dana.”
Mordecai narrowed his eyes, “I thought you were a Goddess?”
She smirked, “Even Goddesses have names.” Dana leant back in her chair, appearing to be completely at ease. “As for your prior inquiry, there is one small thing I didn’t plan on when I created Nature and her protectors; evolution.” She laughed, the sound very self-deprecating yet still one of the most perfect sounds he had ever heard. “Ever changing and never ceasing transformation. Such a simple thing with the power for so much greatness. And yet, also so much cruelty. Watching nature morph from the smallest and simplest of organisms into the most intricate of creatures … it was like a dream. But, one of the first lessons I ever learned was that balance is a harsh mediator. The world demanded balance for such beauty and grace – pain, trials … sickness.”
He considered her words for a moment before realising what she was alluding to, “The chades.”
“Yes. The chades,” her voice was almost a sigh. “I didn’t plan on my guardians turning against their elements, and yet, it happened. The balance to evolution? Devolution.”
Mordecai barely even registered how drawn into the conversation he was. How he had all but stopped humouring the woman in front of him and was instead now conversing with her as if she truly was Mother Nature. “And the wardens who keep devolving? You’re telling me you can’t stop them?”
Dana shook her head, “Believe it or not; I truly cannot. Other than wiping them from existence, that is,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“That sounds like a damn good plan to me,” his voice was gruff and Dana was already shaking her head once again.
“No. Balance. The scales must be balanced at all times,” she lectured.
Mordecai slammed his fist down onto the table, causing the jar to jump but not the woman, “Fuck the scales! Hundreds of wardens and paladins died today. Hundreds! What does that do to your precious balance?!” He felt the sick anger rising up within him once again and felt his paladins stir. He cast a stern look in their direction which had them resuming their seats but the frown on their faces told him they were paying close attention to the ongoing scene.
“Nature’s equilibrium has been disrupted, it is true. But not by me and therefore, I cannot be the one who balances it.” Her response was mild, as was her countenance, as if his palpable anger had no effect on her at all. She tilted her head, sending the red mass shimmering once more, as she appeared to think. After a moment, a small frown creased her forehead before she shook her head;
“No. The chades cannot be destroyed. Instead, they must be healed. They are a blight on our people – an infection. Infections must be cured, not eradicated.”
“Fine,” Mordecai gritted his teeth. “Cure them then.”
Dana frowned at him, impatience finally showing, “I cannot. I create and I destroy. This is my purpose. This is my balance. I created you to maintain nature. Evolution has created a counterbalance to that.”
“So create something to fix it then!” Mordecai shouted, hands slashing angrily through the air.
“I ...” Dana shouted right back, before abruptly cutting herself off. She blinked those intriguing eyes of hers, head tilting to the side. “What did you just say?”
Mordecai settled back against his chair, “You said you are a creator? Well, create something new. Something that can treat this new blight stalking the earth.”
“Hmm, that actually isn’t a bad idea,” Dana said, sounding interested and surprised at the same time.
“Yeah, well. I’m full of good ideas – just ask me,” he gave a rude snort.
The beautiful woman was eyeing him quite differently now and he saw calculation in her gaze as well as lust if he wasn’t mistaken. He was more than a little surprised when she reached out, grabbed his long-forgotten drink and tossed it back in one healthy swallow. Dana cringed but didn’t cough or gag as he suspected she would have.
“The impurities in that concoction …” she shook her head, blue-grey eyes suddenly locked on his; “What if I said you could help me create such a cure, right here, right now? What would you say?”
Mordecai nodded his head, vigorously, “I’d say, aye!”
“I take it that would be another way to say yes?”
He snorted, “Yeah, honey. That means ‘yes’.”
She pursed her lips, “But what if the cure required a sacrifice? The biggest possible sacrifice that existed?”
“Like my life?” he guessed, feeling his paladins tense over the possible threat. But Mordecai wasn’t worried. He was back to believing the redheaded beauty was intensely deranged and although he was concerned for her mental welfare, he held no such fears for his physical person.
“Not your life, no.” She responded, “The life of another – made with the sole purpose for restoring balance to the elements.”
He felt his eyes widen in surprise, “The life of another?”
Dana nodded, her own eyes intense, “Someone you have never met. May never meet.”
Mordecai thought about that for a moment. Would he be willing to sacrifice the life of a total stranger? He would have liked to have said no. That such a decision was not his to make. But the echo of death and grief hollowing out his mind and body even as he conversed with the very attractive crazy female in the run-down tavern on the banks of the Danube, was enough to have him nodding his head. Besides, none of it was real. He was half drunk, with the other half of him nothing but an exposed nerve ending. And the woman in front of him needed the facilities of a mental institution more than she needed the air she breathed. So he opened his mouth and answered;
“Yes. I would sacrifice anything to stop this happening again. Even the life of another.”
The eyes in front of him seemed to swirl like a hidden galaxy for a second before subsiding dully as Dana spoke, “So be it.”
***
It wasn’t until the following morning when he woke up to a shining, naked Goddess in his bed that he realised he had made the biggest mistake of his life. Dana had looked at him, eyes coloured vortexes of pure power and he had known; she was real. He had sat in a hell-hole of a bar, drinking illegal moonshine from an old jam jar and cursed out Mother Nature right to her face. He had then proceeded to make very drunk but still very passionate love to the Creator all night long. But it wasn’t until she stood, naked and shimmering with tears in her eyes and a gentle hand over her womb, that he fully recognised the true ramifications of his actions. The gift, the cure, the sacrifice she had warned him of? It was to be his child – their child. The look of horror and shared sadness in Dana’s eyes did nothing to alleviate his growing terror. Knowing that a goddess also feared what was to come – what they had set in motion – had made him violently ill all over the thin mattress. When he had managed to pull himself together, Dana had disappeared, and he had known he had just altered the course of the world. But in what direction, he could not predict.