Helga reappeared at her own quarters through the misty portal. The
quarters could not be reached physically. There was an enormous bed, vast as a
farmland, with four pillars of burnished wood and curtains of glossy satin falling
in hanging arches. The pillows were palatial, yellow tassels dangling from
their corners. The herbage was arranged more orderly here, avenues of pink
cherry trees lining the borders of a stream, shelves holding golden statues, as
well as a collection of books and stacked documents. She had a watchful eye on
the world above, biding her time before surfacing.
“Circumstances have changed,” Helga said, dropping them before her. They
landed on two pink flower pushes, which formed two columns lining a path from
the portal toward her bed. There were topiaries of armies fighting, chiseled stone
rings around pools and various fountains spouting rainbowy water.
“What has changed?” Milton said, crawling out of the bush, him and
Rennard gathering in the middle of the path. “Why can’t we go on like we
previously decided? Establish a connection with us, and we can help you from
above.”
“I don’t think so.” Helga’s foot came forward from the hem of her dress,
one slow step. The boys retreated several steps, and then she took another
massive stride, deliberately slow, carrying enough threat to flatten them that
they had to keep their pace backwards. “Your friend and the giant he came with,
they certainly aren’t allowed to leave. And that’s not something you would just
accept. Every second out there, thinking of your friend, explaining to his
relatives why he’s gone, mind constantly drifting down here and considering
plans of how to get him out. The scenarios are endless. It is the fear of death
I see on you two. But don’t worry. I will not kill you. I will give birth to
you anew.”
“Give birth?” Rennard’s voice wavered, a concerned glance to his friend.
Not even his intrepid nature could remain staunch against her limitless
strength. “What are you talking about?”
“You will journey in my body, and I will give birth to you. When you
come out from me, your loyalty to me will be steadfast, without thought or,
perhaps, even memory of this life.”
“Why?” Milton yelled. “What’s the sudden problem? Was it the mention of
the miracle stone?”
She raised an eyebrow, the shining dot on her forehead unmoved by
whatever contractions her face made. “You simply know too much, what not even
Ester knows.”
“I swear on everything holy in my life, right now and that will ever
be,” Rennard hollered, “we shall not say anything.”
“No, you won’t.” Her next step was fast, aiming for them. Both dove out
of the way and ran down the path with their base magics. Rennard scored a quick
look back to see what she would do.
Helga was smiling.
“Come.” Rennard tapped his friend’s shoulder and veered off the path,
past the row of bushes and under the short trees. The herbage was like a tiny
jungle for the two, but nothing higher than the knees for Helga. They bolted
past branches and bushes, kicked and slapped their way forward, and sought
shelter under a willow by the pool.
“Where do we go?” Milton whispered, panting.
“I don’t know. I thought about the streams, they have to course through
somewhere, right? Maybe just dive into them, I’ll burn pockets away, give us
some air. It sounds ridiculous but what’s left?”
“How about returning through the portal?” Milton said. “Take us back?”
“But then you’ll be in the same room, where there weren’t many options.”
The voice was Helga’s, right behind them. Startled, the boys turned to find her
lying front down upon everything, her chin resting on the soil.
They dashed, but Helga snapped forward like a snake. She caught Milton’s
left arm between her lips. His whelps caught Rennard’s attention, who returned.
Helga was frozen like a statue, not one muscle moving, yet Milton couldn’t gain
one inch of his arm back. He threw a tether at a tree and made it tighten,
Rennard grabbing his free arm and pulling as well, and it amounted to nothing.
With an explosive suck, Milton vanished as if a hurricane had taken him
away, slurped inside those lips. Faint groans muffled past her cheeks, Milton
being wrestled around by her tongue.
“Let him out!” Rennard punched her lips, the flesh buckling in and
absorbing his pitiful strength without a care. He summoned his flames and tried
to torch her as much as possible, and it seemed to make less of a dent than his
punches. She opened her mouth to let him see Milton, coated in her saliva.
“Milton!” Rennard rushed in to grab him, but the tongue punched him back
out. The lips closed again. A faint smirk formed.
“You…” The smile Rennard had witnessed, the smirk before him now, the
way she toyed with them, it removed any visage of impersonality she had tried
to show them before. “You’re not some goddess or deity, you’re nothing. You’re
just a fucking brat who stumbled upon… something. Miracle stone, whatever it is.
You’re nothing without it!” Rennard paid attention to the tiny, radiant stone
on her forehead, as large as a plum. He formed a fireball over his hand and
threw it right there.
Helga flinched. As insignificant as it was, it was something. She raised
her head off the ground, covering her forehead as Rennard threw more fire
there. Helga opened her mouth again and presented Milton on her tongue, who lay
unmoving with half-open eyes, drowsy.
“Rennard… I’m sleepy.”
“Brother, just hold on.”
Helga closed her
mouth again, reared her head up, and swallowed, a distinguishable lump rolling
down her throat.