“Pardon me,” Tex said chivalrously, gesturing towards the stairs. “Perhaps I should …”

  “Don’t bother. I’m no prude. And you’ve seen plenty of naked women, given all the frolicking you’ve been doing since you came into this world.”

  Tex chortled. That wasn’t what he’d expected, but it was encouraging to see she wasn’t too formal. He decided to forget the whole formality routine.

  Just be direct and honest.

  Shayla pursed her lips. “Come now,” she said, putting her hand on her hip and arching her back. “You don’t think I know about all the hanky-panky you’ve been up to?”

  Tex smiled coyly. “Sure, I have been doing a bit of that. But it’s certainly not my main purpose, Goddess.”

  Shayla put her chin in the air, apparently pleased with the title. A nymph approached her with a towel. She raised her arms and allowed herself to be patted dry.

  Tex continued: “Before I get to why I’m here, I want to apologize for … breaking the sacred rules for approaching your island.”

  Emi looked down, fidgeting with her hands. Tex knew it would be embarrassing for her, but he felt it was best to acknowledge it right off, rather than sheepishly pretending it never happened.

  Shayla waved her hand. “Never mind that. I’ve already forgiven it.”

  Tex and Emi looked at each other in surprise.

  Emi curtseyed and timidly looked at the goddess.

  “You—you have, Goddess Shayla? Oh, thank you, Goddess! Thank you! It was all my fault, you know. But I—I would never have done it on purpose. It’s just that I … Well, I looked by accident.”

  “Of course, child. I understand. Those cheeky mermaids enchanted you with their song and you couldn’t help but look. I don’t blame you a bit.”

  Tex and Emi exchanged another glance, much encouraged.

  “Well then,” Tex said. “You seem to know everything about me, so perhaps you already know why we’re here. My friend, Emi, she has a rare disease–”

  “And you think that I can cure her,” the goddess said, putting her arms into a tunic that the nymphs held for her.

  Emi’s face fell.

  “Yes,” Tex said, crestfallen. “We were hoping you could.”

  The goddess pulled the tunic over her head and let it fall loose about her thighs. The garment didn’t really fit like a skirt; she looked more like a girl wearing her boyfriend’s shirt around the house.

  Her eyes fell on Tex. “Well, I can heal your friend.”

  Tex and Emi brightened. “You can?” Tex said.

  Shayla nodded. “I can, and I did.”

  “You … did?”

  The goddess looked at Emi. “Don’t you feel better, my dear? Surely you notice the difference.”

  Emi beamed at Shayla, and then Tex, and then back at Shayla. She was beside herself.

  “Oh, I … I do, Goddess! I’ve felt wonderful ever since I set foot on the island!”

  Emi danced around on her feet, evidently not knowing what to do with herself. She finally settled on throwing herself against Tex and weeping onto his chest.

  “Thank you, Goddess! Thank you!”

  Tex was about to add his sincere thanks as well, but something in Shayla’s countenance had changed. An emotionless, almost psychotic look had crept into her eyes. She regarded Emi like a cat watching a mouse.

  “Her healing was simply a given the moment she looked at my mountaintop.”

  Emi went stiff. She slowly turned and looked at Shayla.

  Tex frowned. “What do you mean?”

  The goddess tossed her head. “Why, don’t you know? She mustn’t be sick because she has to stay on my island for 200 winters.”

  Emi stared in disbelief. Then she threw her hand over her mouth. Tex ground his teeth.

  Shayla made a sympathetic face. “I know it’s hard, dear. But I think you’ll find my island a delightful place to live.” She smiled coyly. “Tex is welcome to stay and keep you company.”

  Tex’s anger boiled. “I thought you said you’d forgiven her.”

  “Of course I have. But I cannot overturn her punishment. The Fates themselves set these rules; it is not for me to change them.”

  Chapter thirty-eight

  GRENDEL SHIVERED AGAINST a blast of wind, wrapping herself more tightly in her deerskin.

  She stood on a grassy outcropping that overlooked the beach. The tide was high, reaching almost to the bottom of the outcropping where she stood.

  Scanning the tideline, she saw a few chunks of timber and wood shavings among the seaweed. Those were the last remnants of refuse from the boat that Tex had carved.

  Grendel sighed. She remembered that day with nostalgia, as if it was a long time ago. It was too bad she hadn’t scooped up a few shavings.

  She’d wanted to do it — just to have something to remember that day. But she’d stopped herself, thinking it was probably silly.

  “They’ll be back soon,” she’d told herself.

  But they still hadn’t come back, and it had already been five days.

  She gazed out towards the direction of Shayla’s island. It wasn’t visible because of the misting rain that swept over the roiling waves.

  Five long days.

  Every one of those days, Grendel had walked along the beach, hoping to see Tex and Emi. She always expected them to appear at any moment… but they never came.

  Everybody said it was probably the weather; Tex must be waiting for a clear day to return.

  But Grendel was worried.

  She couldn’t ignore the sense of foreboding in her gut; it grew stronger every day.

  These bad feelings came, in part, from a horrible thing that had happened just hours after Tex and Emi’s departure.

  A woman had taken her own life.

  The tyrant Alok, whom Tex had recently slain, had left behind a core harem. The most faithful member of this harem was Deslora, the buxom blonde who had to be restrained during Tex’s takeover of Fimm.

  Deslora was the one who’d killed herself, and it was Grendel who discovered her corpse.

  Filled with a sense of goodwill, Grendel had collected a bouquet and wrote a sweet letter to Deslora, hoping to help her come to terms with the new situation.

  But Deslora didn’t respond when Grendel knocked at her door. Concerned, Grendel entered her hut and found the woman sprawled on the floor, dead.

  Hideous boils covered her once-flawless skin — the result of drinking a glass of a poison called Kilder’s Sperum.

  Of course, Deslora’s suicide had nothing directly to do with Tex’s journey to the Isle of Shayla. But it cast a pall over everything.

  Nobody wanted to say it out loud, but everyone harbored the suspicion that it was a bad omen.

  The rain and mist came shortly after that.

  A gentle voice called out behind Grendel, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Hey, you. I knew I’d find you here.”

  It was Bmimi. The cat girl always deliberately made noise when she was approaching Grendel, otherwise she’d startle her.

  Grendel watched her feline friend fussily pick her way along the wet trail, leaping over puddles. She was hidden inside an oversized bearskin cloak.

  Only the bottom part of Bmimi’s face was visible beneath the hood. Her little button nose was crinkled with displeasure.

  “You don’t have to come out into the rain just for me,” Grendel said as the cat girl came to her side. “I’m okay; I like it out here.”

  Bmimi tilted her head back and peered at Grendel from beneath the hood. There was some urgency in her big, brown eyes.

  “They’re having a meeting. I think they’re going to talk about Tex and Emi. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Where?”

  “In the longhouse. Come on, it’s already started.”

  They followed the path up the slight hill, passing a totem pole when they reached the top. It depicted Solis, god of light, harmony, and reason.

  The god was depicted as a beautiful elf male, his head crowned with rays of light. He gazed over the ocean with an aloof, aristocratic air.

  Walking by the totem, the pointed roof of the longhouse came into view. They heard voices discussing something as they approached.

  Entering into the dusky longhouse, Bmimi knocked her boots against the doorframe and then stomped them on the rug, almost obsessively.

  Grendel left her to her devices, hurrying to find a seat in the packed room. All the present inhabitants of Fimm were there, sitting in rows of chairs, listening to a man who stood in front of them.

  The bachelors sat in the front. These consisted of Yarolk’s men, as well as Broden and his several surviving followers. There were about 25 in all.

  Behind them were women: Miss Weevol’s tribe, numbering 35, and the 50-odd women who had lived in Fimm under Alok’s tyranny.

  Sitting at the very back, as if to keep herself apart from the meeting, was Lorelei, the nymph that had been summoned by the Sundvarr elves to look after the forest of Fimm.

  She looked at Grendel through the frame of her chestnut brown hair and smiled charmingly.

  Grendel’s chest fluttered a little. The nymph seemed so glamorous and graceful that Grendel had quickly grown to idolize her.

  She curtsied shyly and found a seat beside Utu and Zila.

  The man addressing the audience was Yarolk. Tex had left him in charge of the village while he was away, and Grendel could see why. Yarolk was an honest man, and also a natural leader.

  He steepled his fingers thoughtfully. “I’ve spoken to Miss Weevol. We’ve decided to move forward with a Great Contest.”

  “That’s right!” the frumpy Miss Weevol interjected. Though she sat in the back, she had no problem projecting her voice. “It’s for the best. Lord Tex would certainly tell us to do the same.”

  Grumbling and chattering ran through the crowd.

  Yarolk raised his hand, signaling for quiet. “Miss Weevol is right. Ideally, we would wait for Lord Tex to return, but we all know time is not on our side.

  “The Skrillings are gathering their forces… Not to mention …” He glanced at the women, hesitating.

  Miss Weevol scoffed. “You needn’t mince words just because women are present, Mr. Yarolk. Just come out and say it.”

  Yarolk blushed. “Very well. We all know that the Necromancer of Darkoveld is on his way here. He will know that the Prophesied Hero has arrived and he will want to deal with him personally.

  “There’s no way he’d trust anyone else to deal with a threat like that — a threat to his very existence.

  “For obvious reasons, it is of vital importance that we hold the Great Contest before the enemy arrives. That means it must take place immediately.”

  Men shook their heads gravely, and the women murmured among themselves. Everyone knew Yarolk was right.

  The Great Contest’s function was to determine tribal leadership and pair off men with women, thus establishing social order.

  Tex, of course, was already the primary leader, as far as everyone was concerned. But there were two tribes of women who needed chiefs: there was the Weevol tribe, for one.

  Then there was Alok’s original tribe, which he had taken over from his father. Most of that group, about 100 women, were currently living in another village several miles south of Fimm.

  In short, the contest would allow the women of these tribes to select their chiefs and the chiefs’ lieutenants. The most desirable women would take these men.

  Once that was done, there would be further contests in which the remaining men would be paired with women of their own.

  “Lord Tex himself told us his plan many times,” Yarolk observed. “He wishes to unite all the tribes under his leadership so that we can face the enemy as one.”

  Broden scratched his square jaw. “That won’t unite all the Aramantha, though,” the young bruiser said. “There’s still the Houlo tribe up north.”

  Yarolk nodded. “There’s a bachelor group up there, too: Steelfarr’s men.”

  The Houlo group was the one remaining tribe that Tex hadn’t yet encountered. This tribe, along with its corresponding bachelor group, lived on the island’s northernmost extremity.

  “Your point is well taken, Broden,” Yarolk said. “But, as you know, we’ve sent a messenger to contact the Houlo group about our plans. They left five days ago, so they should be returning shortly.”

  Broden sniffed. “I know, but I doubt old Houlo will like the idea.”

  “Probably not, but it’s still worth spreading the word about Tex’s plan to restore the old laws. Perhaps it will weaken his rule.”

  Yarolk paused and looked at the crowd for a moment.

  “Well, that’s it, then. Miss Weevol will immediately begin preparations for the Great Contest. If anyone has objections, state them now.”

  A clear voice rang out like a bell. There was a touch of haughtiness in it. “It’s all very well to hold the contest, but what about Emi and Tex?”

  The tall, elegant figure of a woman stood up, her hands on her hips. She curled a strand of red hair behind her Elven ear.

  Yarolk cleared his throat. “I understand your concern, Miss Neesha, but—”

  “Concern?” Neesha said majestically. “Concern? They’ve been gone five days now. I am more than concerned, Mr. Yarolk. If you don’t send out a search for them tomorrow, I will go look for them myself.”

  Chapter thirty-nine

  GRENDEL WATCHED NEESHA, her heart pounding. She wanted to rush up and hug the elf; she’d said what Grendel was thinking, but she was too scared to say.

  She squeezed her little fists together. “I’ll go with her!” she blurted out.

  Everyone turned and looked.

  Utu, Zila, and Bmimi all declared that they would also go.

  Yarolk frowned. “You’re talking nonsense, all of you.”

  Neesha lifted her chin. “Oh, really? I’m talking nonsense, am I?”

  Yarolk’s face softened slightly. “Look, I understand why you’re worried. But with all due respect … how would you even get there?

  “You’d have to build another craft, but you’d need Lorelei’s permission for…” His eyes wandered to the back rows and met the nymph’s.

  Everyone turned in their chairs and looked at her expectantly.

  Lorelei smiled graciously and stood up.

  “You appear to be seeking my counsel, so I will offer it. Stay calm. Wait a little longer. Tex is trying to solicit the help of a goddess; this may require some … coaxing.

  “The gods can be unpredictable. Five days is not a long time.”

  “Maybe they looked at the mountain!” Miss Weevol suddenly erupted. She immediately covered her mouth.

  A fearful look passed over Lorelei’s face, but she resumed her composure.

  “Let’s hope that’s not what happened. But there’s no reason to assume the worst, anyway. Shayla can’t be expected to grant favors straight away whenever someone asks.”

  Neesha frowned. “How long would you have us wait?”

  Lorelei paused. “I will wait some time yet before I worry.”

  “But why wait?” Neesha said. “Shouldn’t we send a party now, just in case?”

  Lorelei shook her head. “If Shayla is displeased with Tex, then it would do no good sending more people to her shores; it would only anger her further.”

  Neesha took a breath. “Is there nothing we can do?”

  Lorelei raised her hands imploringly. “There’s nothing we need to do yet. However, if they still aren’t back after two weeks, then we can appeal to Shayla through prayer.

  “If that doesn’t work, we could beseech other gods to intervene.”

  Neesha was not pleased with this answer, and she was hardly alone. Bachelors and ladies alike shifted in their seats and murmured uneasily.

  Yarolk cleared his throat. “But there’s much that could happen in two weeks. The… Necromancer’s attack could come by then. Do you really think it will take that long?”

  The nymph smiled and raised her hand, but she hesitated. Then she quickly lowered her hand.

  Maybe she was about to cast a spell to soothe everyone’s emotions, Grendel thought.

  But then she stopped herself because she isn’t supposed to intervene. There are rules around these things.

  Lorelei had intervened during Tex’s battle with Alok, but that was different.

  As the nymph had explained, the sorcerer himself was receiving the help of the Underworld. Lorelei stepped in to balance the scale, hoping the powers-that-be would turn a blind eye.

  Lorelei tried to reassure everyone that it likely wouldn’t take too long for Tex to return.

  “He made a wonderful impression on me; I’m sure he will do the same with Shayla,” she said.

  Despite these efforts, however, the feeling of disquiet was palpable as everyone shuffled out of the longhouse after Yarolk ended the meeting.

  Grendel remained in her chair alongside Utu, Bmimi, and Zila.

  “Well, that explains things, I suppose,” Grendel said. “I, um, I feel better now that Lorelei explained it. It’ll just take some time for Shayla to warm up to Tex, that’s all.”

  Grendel immediately felt silly for saying those things, and she blushed.

  Utu nodded slightly, staring at the front of the room. Zila’s unibrow was bent into a frown, her plump lips pressed tightly together.

  Bmimi flicked her tail and patted Grendel’s arm.

  Neesha remained in her chair several rows ahead, deep in thought.

  Yarolk and Broden were making their way to the door, but they were ambushed by Weevol and several other women who bombarded them with pointless questions.

  Suddenly, a man came rushing in.

  “A Gypso!” he exclaimed. “There’s a Gypso outside!”

  Everyone went silent and looked at him. Grendel stared in disbelief. A Gypso? It couldn’t be. They didn’t exist anymore outside of stories.

  The Gypso were legendary. Long ago, they traveled over the land in caravans, easily recognized by their colorful clothing and the tattoos on their faces.

  Many people had feared the Gypso because of the magical feats they were said to perform. Others adulated them for the same reason.