Fay swept into the Imperial library, ignoring the startled glances and the murmurs that rose in her wake.
Her own library had been impressive, and Oberon's library-sadly now lost in the poisoned depths of Evernight- had hardly been able to contain the myriad books and scrolls the elves had filled it with. The library at Heaven's Peak had been grand, too, and she'd even once visited the great Ruborian university archives.
This, though, could have held them all within its walls.
It was an enormous, ancient series of buildings, butting up against each other like drowsing behemoths. Vast marble columns flanked the bookshelves, and a tiled fresco that was far, far overhead held the constellations, picked out in brilliant diamond. Her footsteps echoed on the polished floor as she entered, and she almost felt as though she was entering some sort of hallowed temple or shrine.
The library was surprisingly busy, considering the fact that the city had been conquered only days before. Librarians in austere grey robes padded quietly among the aisles, or sat cataloging at long tables, lit by magic-kindled globes. Students sat hunched over books, their quills scribbling feverishly. The war had hardly touched this place, Fay thought, and found she was glad of it.
Part of that was possibly due to the librarians. They were uncommonly ferocious in their defense of their books. The Overlord had sent his minions throughout the city after he'd slain Solarius, and the only place they'd encountered any real resistance had been the library. The librarians, to a man, had barricaded themselves behind overturned shelves and had taken out a minion or two with a few well-aimed quills before the Master had managed to convince them that he wasn't planning on burning the place down.
They were watching her warily now, from behind scrolls and shelves, murmuring to each other in quiet, dusty voices, unsure of what to do about her. At last a tall, thin woman detached herself from a huddle of grey-robed acolytes and walked briskly over to her, peered at her through a set of thick spectacles.
"Can I help you...er.."
"'Mistress' will do, and I hope so. I'm looking for information on Dwarf gods, if you have any."
"Hmm." The woman tapped her chin, contemplative. "Dwarves, as far as I know, don't really have gods, per se. If they worship anything, it's gold, and if there's anything they revere, it's industry."
"I do know a thing or two about dwarves," Fay told her dryly. "I've read a great deal of their histories, and you're right, they never mentioned any gods of their own. But I'm curious, still. Anything you have about their societies might help me."
"Of course. If you will follow me, Mistress?" The librarian swept away, purposeful. "I'm afraid that our collection on the Dwarves is rather paltry...no doubt you know more about them, after all." She gave Fay a considering look. "We have almost no information about the elves, either. If you have any books you'd like to donate, we'd be very grateful."
"The elves are a dying race," Fay said coolly. "Any information I could give you would be nothing more than a waste of shelf space."
The librarian glanced at her quizzically.
"As you wish, my lady," she said, and had the sense not to pry.
"Have you ever heard anything about the Broken God?" Fay asked her.
"The broken god?" The librarian paused in the middle of reaching for a book, contemplating. "No...I don't believe I have. Why do you ask?"
"I think it might be a Dwarven god. Or was a god. I'm not sure."
"Hmm." The librarian propped her spectacles on her forehead, dusting her robes. "I can tell you right now that these books won't help you. I've never seen anything by that name in them. But there is someone you can talk to- Davanos, our resident expert on gods and divinities. Follow me, please, and I'll take you to him." She hesitated. "He's...a little peculiar, but if anyone will know your broken god, it's him."
The librarian led her to a stack of papers that was taller than she was, piled precariously on a little desk that looked like it would collapse at any second. She cleared her throat.
"Davanos?"
"Here!"
An arm shot out of the pile, waving, followed by a young, ink-smudged face with the barest beginnings of a beard. Wide, watery blue eyes blinked at her, startled.
"Oh! Oh! An elf! Wherever did you find it?"
He pulled himself free of the papers, sending them careening over the desk in great drifts. The other librarian groaned, trying to shove them back into place.
"Damn it, Davanos, we've told you to clean up your workspace a thousand times!"
"Don't touch those! I have a system!"
"A system?" she said, incredulous. "This is becoming a health hazard, someone could have been crushed!"
"Yes, yes," he said absently, circling Fay.
She turned to track him, nonplussed. A hand shot out before she could stop it, seized her ear.
"Tell me, is it true that elves can speak with the Mother Goddess?" He asked her, as excited as a boy with a new puppy. "That you can commune with beasts and plants, and call down thunder and lightning?"
She grabbed his wrist, her eyes flashing.
"Why don't we find out?" she asked him, her voice low and dangerous.
"Davanos!" The librarian snapped. "This is Mistress Fay! Consort to the...our new master?"
"Oh!" The man grinned at her, held out his other hand. "Charmed! The Queen Fay?"
"I am no longer a Queen-"
"Yes, yes, a transfer of power, I heard a little something about that from a soldier. Very, very interesting, that, makes me wonder about the nature of magic... and godhood, even, especially after what happened with Solarius." He pulled his wrist loose and turned his back on her, rooting around in the pile of papers. "I'd made some notes on it, if you'd like to take a look at them-"
"Davanos," The librarian said patiently. "She has a question for you."
"Oh, of course!" He was hip-deep in the pile, now, his voice muffled. "How can I help you, my lady?"
"Have you ever heard of the Broken God?"
He stilled for a second, made a contemplative sound.
"Broken God...Broken God...I feel like I should. I've heard that name somewhere before, I know I have, but I've forgotten where I heard it." He pulled himself free, his hair in disarray, gave her a quizzical smile. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm curious."
"I don't have any notes on it here. What pantheon is it from?"
"I think it might be Dwarven."
"Hmm." He stared at her. "The Dwarves haven't had a god, in a very, very long time. Once, very, very long ago, maybe, but..." He shook his head, slapping his temples "Ah, damn it, I can't remember!"
"Well, this has been...interesting," Fay said dryly, turned to go.
"Wait! I don't remember, off the top of my head...I never forget, but I must be getting old." He gave her a weak grin when she arched a brow. "Bad joke, sorry. I'll take you down to the archives in the basement. I know I have a useful book or two stashed away down there."
"I'll leave her in your hands, then," the librarian said, bowed to Fay. "I have other duties I need to attend to. Good luck with your search, my lady."
"Come on, this way!" Davanos cried, extracting a lantern from somewhere under all of his papers. "To the archives!"
She sighed and followed him at a slower pace, down a narrow, spiraling staircase, into the musty depths of the basements. She passed tiled frescoes of the Goddess of Wisdom, the God of Justice, and others she didn't recognize. They'd been white-washed and sanitized for Imperial consumption, clad in diaphanous robes and noble-featured golden masks.
"Oberon Greenhaze was your father, right?" Davanos asked her. "Is it true that he turned into a tree?"
"Yes, and partially."
"Were his ears as long as yours?"
"That's a bit of a rude question, really."
"Sorry. I've just never met an elf before. I have so many questions!"
"Keep them to yourself."
"So, I was wondering...when the...er...what do you call him? The Over-something?"
"Overlord?"
"Yes, that. When he took your power, did it hurt?"
"Yes," She told him, hoping to shut him up. "Exquisitely."
He gave her a sidelong look, fascinated.
"Interesting!" He said again.
The dark air smelled like old books. She could hear a faint susurrus from deep within the depths of the library, the beat of leathery wings or the whisper of ancient pages. She shivered and hurried after the librarian and his flickering lantern. He was still talking, mostly to himself, she thought.
"I wonder what he is, really. Your Overlord."
"Yours, too, now."
He waved the distinction away, distracted.
"I've only seen him from a distance so far, but I'd love the chance to study him. Those little creatures, too. Is he just a bigger one of those little things, do you think?"
A laugh escaped before she could help it, and Fay shook her head at him.
"No. He's not."
"Is he human?" he asked her curiously.
"I...I'm not sure. Not completely, I don't think."
"Fascinating! Would he let me study him, do you think?"
"Not likely."
"Oh, that's a shame."
The style of the frescoes on the wall began to change- a gradual roughening of style, the edges of the Gods and Goddesses less refined. Fay stumbled and looked down, realized that, at some point, the stairs underfoot had changed from smooth marble to old, red stone. She could no longer hear the murmuring flick of pages, could hear nothing but the sound of their footsteps and her own breathing.
She glanced up at the walls and frowned. The Gods that adorned the walls were undeniably primitive, now. Gone were the stylized robes and gilded masks, replaced by mud and blood and crude masks that looked like they'd been hewn out of bone or wood. A chill skittered down her spine. Even Davanos had gone strangely silent, and she found now that she almost missed his earlier babble.
"Davanos?" She tapped his shoulder. "How much further do we have to go?"
Davanos turned, and she took a startled step back. He wore a blank, smooth ivory plank of a mask. His eyes flashed a luminous, animal green.
"Not much further now," he said, in a voice that was not his own. "Stay close to me. The dark is hungry here."
Something skittered behind her, the rasp of claws on stone, and she heard a low hiss. Fay swallowed and followed him, seeing no other option.
"Here," He said, stopping beside a low, rough little door. He sketched a bow, the movement puppeteered and jerky. "She is waiting for you."
"She?"
The door creaked open. A dark, earthy smell wafted out like a sigh, tinged with the sweet reek of decay and old blood.
"I will wait for you here."
Fay ducked through the low little door, her aura brightening. A tunnel stretched ahead of her, roots reaching grasping tendrils through the dripping walls. She looked back, frowning- surely her guide didn't expect her to crawl.
The door latched closed and locked behind her.
"Fay," a voice called faintly, from up ahead.
The voice was strangely familiar. There was a strange, unearthly timbre to it...and it knew her name. She shivered and pressed forward.
She shouldered her way through the narrow mouth of the tunnel, brushing dirt disdainfully off her skirts. She looked around, wondering. Vast tree trunks rose on every side, towering out of sight, wrapped with vines and clinging creepers. Warm, golden light filtered through the leaves, and the air was hot and wet.
"Fay."
She whirled. The Mother Goddess was sitting cross-legged on a boulder, naked but for a crude wooden mask.
The sculptors hadn't done her justice. They'd captured her thick thighs, her broad belly...but what they'd failed to capture was just how strong she was.
They stared at each other for a long, liquid moment, and then the Goddess tilted her head, birdlike. Strong, hard muscles moved and roiled beneath a thick layer of fat as she shifted.
"Why do you not kneel, my wayward daughter?"
"I..." Fay stared at her. "I don't-"
The Goddess reached out to her, touched her cheek, and Fay shuddered, pulled away.
"Where were you?" she heard herself gasp, hating the lost, childish whine in her voice. "I prayed to you, again and again, I cried out to you, and you never answered me!"
"Oh, my child." The Goddess shook her head. "The time was not yet right-"
"So many of my people died. My Sanctuaries were burned, my shrines broken-"
"Do not think I did not feel their loss!"
The Goddess' fury washed over her like a hurricane, and Fay stumbled, fell unbidden to her knees.
"I have seen my people flicker and fade, in the face of Men and Dwarves. I watched your father die, child, as his despair pulled him down into the longest night. I saw your mother burn, bright as a star-"
"What do you know about my mother?" Fay whispered, her voice raw.
Her mother had vanished when she was nothing but a girl.
The Goddess bowed her head.
"She spoke the truth to you, child. And that cold corpse of a woman who walks with the Sentinels...she knows the truth, too. There must be balance, my wayward daughter. Light, and dark, in equal measure, lest the world tear itself in two." The Goddess' brilliant eyes appraised her from behind her mask. "I have a task for you."
Once, her heart would have leaped, to speak with her Goddess. Now, it was chill and still as a stone.
"I don't care," Fay heard herself hiss.
The Goddess stared at her.
"My daughter-"
"I don't care! Find someone else!" Her face was wet, Fay realized. She glared at her Goddess, hating her. "I am happy, for the first time in my long, fruitless life! I have a purpose. I belong."
No one lived and died on her word, anymore. Her decisions could no longer bring kingdoms to ruin. She wanted to keep it that way, Fay thought, wanted nothing more than to live out her life in quiet obscurity.
The Goddess laughed, a cruel sound.
"Oh, my foolish, straying little lamb. Do you really think he loves you?"
How could she have known her heart, her hidden fears? Fay shivered- she was a Goddess, she reminded herself. The Mother could see into her secret heart, if she wanted to, and she had no defense, could do nothing but stand tall and defy the Goddess who had abandoned her and her people.
"I don't care," she snapped, and then her pale eyes softened, thinking of her Master, and of Kelda, and her pregnancy. Her hand strayed, unbidden, to her abdomen- it had been so long, she thought, since an elf had borne a child. "Maybe, given time-"
The Goddess' eyes were cold behind the mask, and she held up a thick hand.
"Oh, my wayward daughter," she said. "I don't give a fuck for any half-breed brats you and that monster might bear."
Fay choked as she felt something blacken and die inside her, doubled over, clutching her stomach. The Goddess was taking something from her, she realized, with a sick sense of despair, as she felt her womb wither within her.
"No," she heard herself say. "No, please, don't-"
"Hmm." The Goddess tilted her head again, evaluating her. "If you serve me well, my wayward daughter, perhaps I'll allow you to bear children once again. But until then-"
"That was never yours to take!" Fay shouted.
"I created the elves," The Mother Goddess said coldly. "Your very souls belong to me, my silly, pretty child."
Fay stared up at her, not bothering to disguise her hate.
"Very well," she said after a moment. "You've stolen my right to bear a child, after I've wasted my life trying to serve and protect your own foolish children. What more do you want to do to me?" It was stupid, she knew, to goad a Goddess, but she was furious. "I have a heart still, black though it has become. Perhaps you could rip it from my chest? Or if you like you could take my legs and leave me crippled."
"Ah." For the first time, she heard the Goddess hesitate. "Oh, child. I would sacrifice you, torment you, tear you into a thousand pieces, if it would save the rest of my children. I take no joy in your distress, my little one. My care is for the Elven race- for all the elves."
"Florian was right," Fay snapped. "You are a bitch."
For a moment, she thought the Goddess would strike her down, her broad shoulders tensing...and then the Goddess looked away and sighed.
"Do not mistake me, my daughter," she said softly. "I do not want to harm you, but I need your cooperation. If the stolen potential of your would-be children is the only way I can ensure your assistance...then, so be it. I do not care if you hate me, and I do not care even if you die, so long as my people survive."
She held out a hand, and an image flickered there, suspended over her palm. Fay caught her breath, seeing herself reflected there. A slender, red-haired boy tugged at her skirts, looked up at her with shy gold eyes. She cradled a tiny bundle in her arms, a small fist reaching out to grab her finger.
"I can give you this, and more, if you serve me."
Fay swallowed, her throat tight, trying to keep her eyes from growing wet.
"What do I have to do?" she whispered.
"War is coming, my wayward daughter." The Goddess' brilliant eyes were hard behind her mask. "You must prepare my children. They have grown soft and indolent, scattered to the far corners of the world. You must unite them. And you must strengthen them, or else they will be destroyed."
"Why didn't you come to me before?" Fay asked her. "When the Empire came, they tried to destroy us-"
The Goddess laughed, mirthless.
"Oh, no, my child. They didn't want to destroy you. They wanted to enslave you. The elves would have been diminished, but they would have survived. What is coming next..."
The Goddess shivered, and Fay was suddenly afraid.
"What is coming next could destroy us. Not just the elves, not just Men, not just the Dwarves...it could bring us all down. Even the Gods." The Goddess' gold eyes bored into her soul. "You must warn my people. You must make them ready, make them strong, for what is coming." Her hand reached out and brushed Fay's stomach, and her eyes were briefly sad. "Whatever the cost."
Fay felt very cold.
"What is coming, Mother?" she asked, knowing she wouldn't like the answer.
The Goddess was quiet for a long moment, looking down at her folded hands. At last she stirred and spoke, her voice a whisper.
"The Broken God."