NOTE: this story was originally posted as "Around The Table", but I like this name better.
Title: Before The Flood
Poet: razorborne
Status: private (I might change this? I'm interested to see what others might do with these characters but I have some more groundwork I need to lay first.)
Word Count: 1414
Four figures sat around a table in a poorly lit room. Three were in the midst of a fierce debate. The fourth was dead.
“So it’s agreed?” asked the tall, blue-skinned woman with red eyes who’d taken the seat closest to the door. “We proceed with the plan?”
There was silence for a moment while the other two pondered the question, then the old woman in black snapped.
“What? No! Of course not! You can’t just barge in here, kill our Ergin, and insist we all join you on a suicide mission. You know better than that, Vella.”
Vella rolled her eyes. “Look, we’re all going to agree with me eventually, I was just trying to save some time. The part where we fight is never fun, and besides, the sooner we get started, the better. Anyway, Madela agrees with me, so it’s two to one.”
“She most certainly does not! A sweet, innocent girl like her would never agree to something like this! Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
The two turned their attention for the first time to the little girl with the pale pink hair sitting between them. She was staring at the dead body across from her. “You… you killed him.”
“Who, Ergin?” Vella waved her hand dismissively at the corpse. “He’ll be fine. Give him a week, two tops, and this will’ve all blown over. You’ll see.”
“But he didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Didn’t he? I’ll take your word for it. I could’ve sworn he had, but it’s been so long it’s hard to keep track.”
“You’ve been here five minutes!”
Vella shrugged. “Yeah, that sounds about right. And?”
Madela turned to the crone, a hint of tears in her voice. “Granny? Is it true he’s ok?”
Granny sat for a moment, choosing her words with the utmost care. “Well, no, deary, not at the moment. But he will be. Death never seems to hold for our Ergin. He’s of a special sort.” She turned her gaze back to Vella, and her voice took on a steely tone. “That doesn’t mean you had to kill him in front of her.”
“I don’t see what difference it makes. Besides, Birdboy’s got a soft spot for necromancers. They remind him of home. He’d never have agreed to my plan, would’ve dragged this whole thing out, and I don’t have time for that. We’ve got work to do.”
“You know he hates that name.”
“Yeah, but he’s dead right now, what does he mind?”
“Still, show some respect. For Madela’s sake.”
“I don’t get it,” the girl chimed in. “Why do you even want to kill the necromancer? I thought he was your friend?”
Granny smiled and leaned back in her chair. Things were getting interesting.
“Well, yes,” Vella began, “But, you see, sometimes…”
“But I’m your friend!” Madela interrupted. “Do you want to kill me?”
“No, of course not, but, well, friendship can be complicated…”
“You killed Ergin. Is he your friend?”
“That’s different, he comes back. You can’t be held accountable for killing someone if they come back, can you? That’s not fair at all!”
Madela considered this for a while, and had to concede that Vella had a point. “Still, though. Why kill him?”
“Oh, I’ve found the perfect trap, there’s this whole plane covered in ocean as far as the eye can see. You’d love it there, Madela, I’ll have to make sure to show you before we…”
“No, but why kill him?”
“You didn’t let me finish! The whole world is bound by this ancient, powerful magical seal that holds the waters back and protects what little land they have left. It’s the perfect bait: I can lure him with promises of great power, then use that same power to trap him. It’s such an elegant…”
“No, but why kill him?”
“...I don’t understand.”
Granny chuckled.
“It’s just…” Madela paused, trying to read something in Vella’s inscrutable red eyes. “What did he do wrong? You can’t just go about killing people who didn’t do anything wrong!” She glanced across the table at Ergin. “Not if they don’t come back!”
“You can’t?”
“No.”
“Says who?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“No!”
“Madela, that’s not a…”
“NO!”
“He ruined the Cult of the Painted Fox!”
Silence fell. Granny leaned forward again, the smile gone from her face. Things were no longer fun.
“That was him?”
Vella nodded and refused to make eye contact.
“You’re sure?”
She nodded again.
“Vella, that was over a century ago. You have to let it go.”
“What’s the Cult of the…”
“Quiet, Madela. This doesn’t concern you.”
“But Granny…”
“I said quiet, girl. Vella, darling, how could you possibly know that, after all these years?”
Vella’s skin turned a shade of silvery pale. “He told me, Granny.”
“Did he, now? And why would he just offer that up?”
“I mean, he didn’t, not in quite so many words, but…”
“But what?”
“But he was there. On Qel’Moria. It was the same time. It had to be him.”
“But you don’t know…”
“I do.”
“But you can’t…”
“I do.”
“Fine,” Granny waved her hands in defeat. “But there’s been dozens of cults since, on as many worlds. You’ve had your fun, and he’s even helped on occasion. Why can’t you let this one go?”
“You weren’t there, Granny. You didn’t see them. You don’t know what it was like. They believed in me, Granny, like really believed in me. They would’ve done anything I asked. We were building something like I’d never seen before, and then they…” she trailed off, the last few words caught in her throat.
Granny waited a second, then nodded. “You cared for them, didn’t you?”
Suddenly Vella was on her feet, her eyes turned black and seething. “You take that back!”
“Of course, deary, of course,” The crone smirked. “The great trickster queen Vella Voss would never stoop so low as to care for mortal lives. My apologies.”
“I will not be mocked, Granny.”
“And I will not be threatened. Now sit down, you’re scaring the girl.”
Vella pounded her fist on the table one last time for effect, then turned to recover her chair. “Honestly, I don’t know why you keep her around anyway…”
“Vella.” Granny’s voice was dripping with ice.
“No, that’s not what I…”
“Vella.”
“Yes, of course, sorry, Granny. No offense meant, Madela.”
“None taken?”
“Good, good. You won’t remember this anyway, so no harm done, I suppose.”
“What do you mean I won’t remember?”
Granny snapped her fingers. “Enough of that. Madela, we’ll talk later. Vella, remember yourself. I won’t have you talking like that, not in front of her.”
Vella nodded. “Yes, Granny.”
“Now listen to me: The Painted Fox is gone. They’ve been gone over a hundred years. Killing him won’t bring them back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, and you do too, and so does Madela, and so would Ergin if he weren’t dead at the moment. There’s no undoing what’s done. That’s not magic you’d want to wield even if you could.”
“Maybe not, but I have to try. Besides, someone should pay for what happened to them.”
“And will that make you feel better?”
“Probably not, but it’ll make him feel worse.”
Granny sighed. “Look, there’s no talking you out of this, is there?”
Vella shook her head.
“I thought not. We won’t be joining you, you know.”
Vella nodded.
Granny leaned forward again, tracing a few runes on the table before looking back up at her guest. “Now, tell me true, Vella: when all’s said and done, will you be walking away from this one?”
“I’ll survive, Granny. I always do.”
“Only until you don’t,” Madela muttered.
Vella glared at the little girl. Granny smiled. “She’s right, you know. Be careful, Vella. I’d hate to have to write you out, you’ve become quite a large part of her story.”
“Don’t worry, Granny, I’d never let something as trivial as my death interfere with your work. Goodbye, Madela. Trust me, you won’t even know I’m gone.”
Madela opened her mouth to say goodbye, but Vella had already disappeared before the sound could form. She turned her attention instead to the body across the table. “Will he really be alright?”
Granny shrugged. “He always has been before, don’t see why things’d be different this time.”
“What was she talking about? What work? What story?”
“Oh, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with. Now go to sleep, darling. Tomorrow’s a brand new day.”
