THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 1
On this day, the children of my holding had become a horde of ferocious giant-slayers.
The giants were massive effigies that the people of the village and the surrounding farms had spent the last week constructing. They towered over the center of the village commons, their long purple cloaks drifting in the morning breeze.
What "Sentinel" once meant was now almost completely lost to history. Only a few unusually long-lived survivors of those times, and perhaps some strangely erudite scholars, still remembered the truth.
So be it. The Old One and his Wilder companions fought long and hard to create a world where the Sentinels were no longer a threat. I am quite comfortable with allowing their terror to become a thing of myth and legend.
"Let the Old One's will be done," I whispered to myself.
My wives were sitting with me. They glanced at me after I spoke, but said nothing.
Olivia carefully finished chalking a streak of white ash into our son's hair and finally let him go. With an eager yelp, Oliver leaped from his mother's lap and raced off to join the other children. After pausing to seize a large tree limb from a pile of similar debris, he set to work, happily battering at one of the giants.
The other village children used everything from bare-hands, to clubs, to small white claws, to attack the foes of all who live. Overhead, a pair of Angel girls, one with white wings and the other with black, were beleaguering the giant's head with improvised wooden spears.
For his age, Oliver was quite powerful. With just a few blows, he wrecked the ankle and shin of a huge wooden leg. The entire structure jerked in response - groaning as it leaned precariously. The children shrieked in laughter as they scattered away from the slowly falling giant. The two Angels frantically flapped their wings as they gained altitude.
However, Oliver refused to flee. Instead, he brandished the splintered remnant of his club, spun it around his head several times, and then threw it at the giant. It unerringly slammed end-first into a woven-straw "eye".
The Angel girls laughed and waved their weapons as Oliver roared in triumph. The other children jumped up and down in glee.
Giant-slaying was in Oliver's blood. On both sides of his family.
My wives and I watched placidly as May - my youngest daughter by Anna - hastily grabbed Oliver by the collar, and teleported them both away. They vanished in a bamf of acrid smoke and materialized a dozen yards away. The giant thunderously collapsed onto the spot they had just left.
The watching adults cheered and applauded the demise of the first giant. The Festival of the Hidden Lady is about remembrance, but it is not a somber time. Adults remember the Hidden Lady with laughter and celebration, youngsters remember her with unbridled glee.
I'm sure my grandmother would have liked it that way. I have an ancient and treasured memory of her at the head of the local militia as she led them out against what would be the last resurgence of the demon-machines. The feral smile on her face had been as grim and purposeful as that of any Blood samurai.
I was just a boy at the time. It's said that, just before her injuries finally claimed her, she destroyed the last of the Sentinels with her own hands. They have never returned. There are those who call her "curse-breaker".
"You be a good boy, Jimmy," my grandmother told me just before she left. "Watch out for everyone. Make sure they're okay."
My grandmother is buried on her last battlefield - I make a point of visiting whenever I'm in the area. And there are times that I've wondered if perhaps I've spent the rest of my life obeying her final command.
"Oliver!" I called out suddenly, "leave something for everyone else!"
He waved at me and then eagerly took off at a dead run for the next wooden titan. Having slain their first monster, the village children were already gathering around their next victim. They all had the streaks of white in their hair that symbolized the Hidden Lady. Many of the girls were also wearing gloves and hoods.
Anna and Emma - my first and second wives - were both laughing as they watched the show. As was only correct for a first wife, Anna sat to my right, while Emma and Olivia were on my left. At the moment Anna was comfortably leaning against me, with her head on my shoulder. Her tail was amiably wrapped around my waist and the tip of her barbed tail was tucked into one of a belt-loop of my pants.
"May! Keep an eye on Oliver!" Anna called out to our daughter.
May took a moment to roll her eyes - an act which made her look a great deal like her mother - and then ran after Oliver. She's very quick, and caught up to him in no time.
Meanwhile, Olivia had a hand over her mouth, partially hiding her smile. Really, there was no need for that, but she was still a Storm Hammer of Lady Ororo - both a priestess and a warrior. That position called for a certain dignity, even when she was with those she loved. Olivia sometimes had a problem showing her gentler emotions.
I took Olivia's hand in mine, gently pulled it down to her lap, and then gripped it tight. Olivia gave me an affectionately indignant look, but then finally broke out into full-blown grin. Fate had gifted Olivia with many fine qualities, but she was too rough-hewn, rugged, and scarred to be considered a conventional beauty. Until, of course, on those rare moments when she let herself smile. When that happened, she rivaled any woman ever born.
Emma leaned over and kissed Olivia on the bald side of her head. Olivia, of course, still wore her hair in a white mohawk. Then Olivia actually blushed. Emma had almost certainly mind-whispered something suggestive to Olivia. Emma is very good at that sort of thing, and Olivia is so easily victimized.
Perhaps two of my wives cared more for each other than they did for their husband. If that was the case, then so be it. I was fortunate to have them in my life under any circumstance, and only a fool would question that sort of luck.
Leaning over to me, Olivia whispered something in my ear. She was still blushing.
"Whatever it is, I'm up for it," Anna added eagerly. Anna is generally "up" for anything that involves the bedroom.
I gave Emma a long and level look. "Stop embrassing Olivia by forcing her to make such suggestions for you."
Emma shrugged. "She lost that bet with me fair and square. So for the next year she has to do the asking."
Olivia gently jabbed an elbow into Emma's side.
"And there's nothing indecent about a little three-on-one!" Anna interrupted indignantly. "It's the most efficient way for a man with that many wives to have some innocent fun!"
I was about to make a comment about Anna's interpretation of the concept of "innocent", but then I spotted something that caught my attention.
He was standing off to the side, watching the children in their savage play. Nobody else, even those standing right next to him, seemed to notice his presence.
It had been a long, long time, but I knew him. I knew him all too well.
"Excuse me," I said tensely as I got to my feet. Anna's tail was still wrapped around me, and before she could release me I almost yanked her from the bench on which we were sitting.
"What the hell?" Anna gasped in surprise as she hastily disentangled herself from me.
"Stay here," I ordered as I walked away. There must have been something particularly urgent in my voice, because - for once - my wives actually did as they were told.
"Gant, stay with him," I heard Emma order. She sounded worried.
That was actually unnecessary. Gant - my nine-foot-tall Troll servant - was already hustling after me. He takes his role as a defender of both my family and myself very seriously.
Cutting across that part of the village commons on which food was being loaded onto the feasting tables, I advanced towards our visitor. As I walked across the field, my vassals bowed and carefully got out of my way. A female ogre and some of the older Folk knelt as I passed. I discourage that sort of thing, but old habits always die hard.
The watching figure slipped into a copse of nearby trees that bordered the village. He obviously wanted me to follow.
"Wait here, Gant," I said. Gant grunted skeptically, but did as I'd ordered.
Some of my samurai - many of them off-duty because of the festival - had noticed that I was up to something and were worriedly heading in my direction. Just before I entered the tree-line, I waved them back. Like Gant, they reluctantly obeyed. By now, everyone in my holding knew that I sometimes dealt with strange entities, and that it was best to just leave me alone if I seemed to be acting eccentrically.
Under the cover of the woods, the person I'd followed turned to face me. He was medium-tall, with a slender and wiry frame. His hair was long and dark, with his most striking facial features being high cheekbones and a pair of piercing green eyes.
"It has been a long time by the standards of your kind," he told me thoughtfully. "I wasn't sure if you would remember me."
"Oh, I know you," I replied coldly. In a world of shape-shifters and illusionists, sometimes identity is a question. But I had the other's scent. It stank unmistakably of lies.
With a snikt, I extended my claws. They gleamed in the dappled light that filtered through the boughs. I was fully prepared to kill this intruder and make the world - in fact, nine worlds - a far better place.
"I didn't come here to fight," Loki told me quietly. "I just want to talk."