Chapter Thirty-Seven
I have gathered many accounts of the goddess’s reported abilities. One of the most intriguing involves the power to restore or reverse damage, both natural and man-made. She is said to have been able to repair structures with a touch, to remove blight and blood alike from the very land itself.
A truly awesome power, indeed. My thoughts? If she could do such things as these, she would not be dead.
Fallen Goddess: An Analysis of Primitive Belief
by Guildmaster Klement
They gathered on the stone docks the next day. Some of the villagers—both those from Aynalka and those who had traveled from as far away as Dhamryn and North Harbor—had suggested meeting someplace less scarred by the recent battle, but Naia had insisted.
They needed to be near what was left of Gwynira’s palace.
But she understood why they did not want to be here. Besides the enduring pain that the palace represented, the docks had not escaped the battle unscathed, and the harsh reminder of the recent danger both frightened and disturbed them.
The stone was cracked and pitted, but still in far better shape than the wooden docks. They had been reduced to splinters in some places, though folks were already hard at work, repairing them.
Petya stood nearby, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Except for the battle, she had refused to come near the palace while it still stood. Now that it lay in ruins, she had finally been convinced . . . but only by a personal invitation from her wife.
The older women watched as a trio of young workers dismantled the half-burned building that had once served as the harbormaster’s office. “It’s going to take a long time to rebuild,” Petya observed solemnly.
“Mmm,” Naia hummed in agreement. “But they’ll handle it. The people of Rahvekya have proven they can handle anything.”
“Yes,” Petya agreed with a smile, gazing down at her wife. “We have.”
Naia caught sight of Arktikos rounding a giant pile of stone and wood debris and waved him over. “Is it done?”
He bowed. “It is. I had the remainder of the palace guard work through the night.”
“Thank you, Arktikos.”
As he walked away, Agata tilted her head. “What is done, my lady?”
“I asked him to search the rubble of the palace for anything that could be salvaged.”
“Was that truly a priority?” Petya asked, frowning. The question earned her a nudge from her wife.
Naia smiled. “Trust me. It had to be done immediately.”
She walked across the shattered ground and into the ruins of the palace.
It was so odd, the complete reversal that had happened here.
When she and her companions had first arrived in Rahvekya, the invaders’ palace stood strong, while Naia’s temple lay in ruins.
Now, this place was unrecognizable, while her temple had been restored.
It was time to restore this place, as well.
Naia stopped where she thought the antechamber might have been outside the Great Hall. She couldn’t tell for sure, but it did not matter.
This was as good a spot as any.
She sank to her knees on the shattered stone and traced her fingers over the cracks. “They took every bit of this from you,” she murmured. “All the stone and metal, they dug out of you. The wood, they tore away.”
After a long moment, the island seemed to sigh. I remember.
Naia’s fingers flexed above the rubble. “It’s time for you to take it back.”
She closed her eyes and imagined everything set to rights. The stone unformed and returned, shot through with the metal ore. No construction and no interlopers, just the island and its faithful stewards.
Is it possible?
Let’s find out.
The very ground rumbled and shifted beneath Naia, almost as if it was stretching muscles that had long been unused. It reached out, and she gave it an encouraging push.
Gasps and scattered cries drifted from the docks, and Naia opened her eyes.
She was now kneeling in a clearing of soft grass, new and hardy and eager to grow. It felt springy under her fingers—familiar, like an old, treasured friend—and relief and gratitude flooded Naia.
“There is one more thing,” she whispered. “But someone will have to help me.”
The Lover, yes.
People had already begun to approach the meadow as Naia rose, and her heart swelled when she saw Aleksi and Einar at the front of the crowd. She slipped her hand into Einar’s and leaned her head against Aleksi’s shoulder.
Aleksi smiled down at her. A scar on his chest peeked out over the open vee of his loose shirt, the only physical remnant of his fight with Sorin. It had already faded so much that Naia was certain that, in perhaps a week’s time, it would be gone.
Einar’s eyes shone as he gazed at the clearing. It was a man’s wonder at witnessing the beauty of his homeland combined with a god’s memories of lying with her in that soft grass and staring up at the sky, finding shapes in the clouds.
He looked lighter, which she attributed to his relief at having made a decision about his future. The mild nervousness that lingered was undoubtedly because he still had to tell his crew. His family.
Naia knew exactly how he felt.
“I want to do something,” she told them. “But I need the god of all things that grow. Will you?”
Aleksi rubbed his cheek against hers. “You don’t even have to ask.”
She stretched up on her toes and kissed him lightly. Power surged around them, bathing them with heat and the smell of flowers. The scent intensified as dazzling light began to swirl around the three of them, lifting Naia’s hair. It coalesced, subsided . . .
And there stood three trees in the clearing, so close that their branches were entwined as one.
People began to fall to their knees, but Naia shook her head. She pulled Agata back to her feet and addressed the crowd. “Please, stand. No more kneeling.”
Agata’s gaze swept across the clearing, her eyes wide and wondering. “It’s beautiful, my lady. But won’t Gwynira want to rebuild her palace?”
“There will be no palace.” Naia followed the priestess’s gaze, and she smiled as a pleased wind ruffled her hair. “Gwynira rules you no longer.”
This time, the shock that rippled through the crowd was punctuated by scattered cheers.
“So. We return to who we were before the Emperor’s men arrived.” Agata’s voice shone with satisfaction. “I have kept the memories of our people safe, my lady. And, with your help, we can rebuild that world.”
This was going to be hard to explain. The islanders wouldn’t like it, might even feel hurt and abandoned. But it was necessary—for Naia and for them.
She took both of Agata’s hands in hers. “I cannot stay.”
“What?” The priestess’s hands trembled in hers. “But you have only just returned to us. We need your guidance.”
“No, you don’t.” Naia smiled. “You need to not have it. For you, my return was more than the fulfillment of a promise or a prophecy. It was a miracle. If I stayed, you would never think to argue with me or tell me I was wrong or act counter to my wishes.”
A young voice piped up from the crowd. “We would not disrespect you like that, my lady.”
“Exactly. But every child has to grow up.” Naia pulled Agata closer and turned to the crowd. “And every mother has to step back and allow it to happen.”
Another voice rose in the crowd, this time an old man. “What of the prince? Will you take up your parents’ throne, Your Majesty?”
Einar stepped forward, his expression gentle but resolute. “The time of kings and queens in Rahvekya is over. For centuries, you have been told what you must do and who you must be. It is time for you to decide what you want this island to be.”
Naia closed her eyes and whispered to the island again. When I said to take it back, I meant everything.
Are you certain?
Very. You kept my power and my people safe, all these many years, and I thank you for that. But it is time.
Power pulsed again, accompanied by the throbbing sound of drumbeats that she now knew to be the island’s heart. It lurched, expanded . . . and pulled free of Naia’s open hands.
It was still there, only now it surrounded her instead of being part of her. She was just Naia again. A water nymph of the Sheltered Lands, who walked out of the ocean near Seahold less than a year before. She had her memories, but the power of the island had been returned to Rahvekya.
She looked out at the sea of faces before her. Some were as stricken as Agata, while a few had descended into sobbing tears. Others were more composed, but sad.
“I am not deserting you,” she reassured them. “I can be here in an instant, and I will always come if you need me.”
“And you are not alone. You have Agata, your High Priestess who remembers all the old ways.” Then Einar rested a hand on Petya’s shoulder, drawing a startled glance from her.
“And you have Petya of Stenyar, the hero who carried your infant prince to safety so that I could grow up and bring the goddess back.”
The somber mood of the crowd shifted almost immediately. Many of them had been led to safety by the two women just the day before, while the rest recognized in them a deep connection to their distant culture.
Petya lowered her voice so she could not be heard above the cheering. “What are you doing, Einar? I’m no leader.”
“Aren’t you?” he replied with a grin. “You know the sea, you know this island, and you’ve ruled over pirates and warriors and one unruly boy that you somehow raised into a decent man.
” He pulled Petya into a hug, his next words so quiet that even Naia could barely hear them.
“You gave up everything for me, and I will never forget that. If you ever need us, we’ll be there. ”
Tears filled the older woman’s eyes as she pulled back and framed his face with her hands. “I’m proud of you.”
Einar’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and he wordlessly drew Petya into another hug.
Naia searched the crowd until she found Tilly’s face. The girl’s cheeks were streaked with tears, but she stared back with a small smile.
Naia gestured her forward. “They’re going to need your help, Tilly.”
“Me?” Tilly shook her head. “What for?”
“To keep the records, of course. To tell the stories.”
As Tilly pondered that, stunned and wide-eyed, another familiar form stepped forward. Hilja was stone-faced, but her lower lip trembled. “I am going to miss you, my lady.”
“Well, I hope not,” Naia told her.
“Ma’am?”
Naia clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “I thought you might like to come with us. Obviously, you don’t have to, but—”
Her words were cut off by the taller woman grabbing her in a tight hug. “It would be an honor to serve.”
“As a guest, Hilja.” Aleksi spoke kindly, but firmly. “You serve no one. Not anymore.”
The crowd surged around Tilly and Hilja, offering congratulations and admiration and, in Hilja’s case, tearful goodbyes.
Aleksi bent to speak into Naia’s ear. “Only one more thing left to do, little nymph.”
“Indeed.” Naia turned to Einar, both eyebrows raised. “Are you ready?”