Magic, Myth and Mysteries

Before and After: Sisters of Fate, Part Four - Jayleigh Wright

Part Four

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Clio asks.

Porrima looks out the window. It has been two years since Clio met Maleek in Mauretania, and she has not found a man in whom she has had any interest. Somehow, seeing Clio with Maleek has made the men she’d have fallen for before seem that much less worthy of her attention.

“How can I ask you to come with me when your lives are here? When your happiness is here?” Porrima persists.

“I don’t want you to risk a greater heartbreak if you fall for a man and I am not there soon enough to let you know what he may have already done. We have both rescued each other countless times, and I would never forgive myself if I were not with you!” Clio’s voice is strained at the end, her emotions tightening her vocal cords. She takes a deep breath, then makes a huffing sound like a breathy laugh. “Besides, Maleek can’t wait to dive into a new land and learn their histories and culture.”

Porrima chuckles at the thought. He may be human, but he thirsts for the knowledge of the gods. She shakes her head as she replies, “Fine. You may both come along, but we will be living separately. I do not need to hear about Maleek’s…skills…when I should be sleeping.” Porrima shudders at the memory.

“It’s like having a pet, Porrima. When they do something well, you must praise them so they’ll do it again!” Clio laughs heartily.

“Go get Malik while I say my goodbyes to Carmenta and Aegeria. A new temple was built recently, so I figured I might as well try a new location.”

Within the hour, Maleek, Clio, and Porrima leave the temple of the Carmenae and arrive at the newly built temple in the far North. The cold air immediately hits their skin, feeling like they had been submerged in an ice bath.

“My gods, I never knew a land could be so cold!” Maleek gasps. Porrima and Clio reach into their satchels, then drag out fur-lined suede clothing, cloaks, and fur-lined leather boots. “Where are we anyway?”

“Nordvegen.” Porrima states, as she changes her clothing inside the temple. She knew that Clio and Maleek were not fully informed of her plan. She had told them that she was heading north, but had not told them she had intended to go to the North Way. When she felt the temple’s construction, she knew it was an opportunity to be somewhere she had yet to visit, so she was not going to miss it.

“We are in the lands of the Northmen?” Maleek hisses, his concern evident.

“They are humans just like you, Maleek. Brutal and backward in some ways, advanced in others. The temple was built last week. It is a land I’ve yet to visit, and I just needed to try somewhere new,” Porrima explained, looking up from tying her boots to face Clio and Maleek.

“I understand, Porrima. This is a new opportunity, and Maleek can write all about it and bring back the knowledge of the Northmen to his students in Mauretania,” Clio says, winking at Porrima. Porrima looks at Maleek and watches as the reality of Clio’s words register in his mind, excitement washing over his face.

“Yes, my scrolls will be the talk of the province for years!” He exclaims.

Once they were all dressed, they exited the temple and began walking the road that had been roughly cut leading up to it. The land was dense with trees, the ground a rich brown with patches of bright green grass and snow. The smell of the earth hung heavily in the air, a nice change from the scent of living in the city. They slow their trek when they hear the sound of voices ahead. As they break through the tree line, a vast beach lies ahead with large ships and massive tents ahead. While it was not a city, it was evident that the people were gathered into a society of sorts.

Nearing the encampment, Porrima readies herself to call out, but she is stopped short as a thick arm wraps around her waist and a blade is pressed to her throat. Within a second, Clio has a bow pulled from her satchel and an arrow drawn.

“Release my sister now,” her command comes out like a growl and the earth shudders in response.

“I will do no such thing until you reveal your intentions here,” the Northman’s deep voice responds. There is no waiver or fear evident, even after Clio revealed a bit of her power. “If you are here to kill or take my people, I warn you now, I will kill her first.”

Clio’s black eyes burn with rage at this man’s threat. She takes a deep breath in preparation to loose her arrow, but Porrima stops her. Just as her fingers begin to loosen, Porrima pushes back with her legs hard. The man did not expect it, so the impact of his back against the ground and Porrima’s back into his chest caused him to drop his blade. Porrima stands immediately, draws her sword, and faces the man.

“We come peacefully, in hope of building kinship with your people,” She declares rushedly. “We mean no harm, only friendship.”

Porrima takes a second to observe the man on the ground before her. His skin is nearly as white as Clio’s, but has markings everywhere that look like inked drawings. His hair is shaved on the sides, but the top is long enough to reach his low back. He has it woven into multiple small braids, which are joined together in one large braid down his back. Beads and strips of fabric are woven into the braid ornately and stand out against his light golden hair. He is shirtless, even in the frigid climate, but he is wearing long leather pants and leather boots. His turquoise eyes are intense as he considers her words. She watches as he takes her in, from her hair, down her face, but he stops at her neck and stands abruptly.

“I will get a healer if your words are true,” he says and begins walking toward the tents. Porrima is confused and reaches for her neck, only to bring back bloody fingers.

“Porrima!” Clio gasps as she turns her sister’s body to face her. “We need to go home! Aegeria can fix this!”

“No. It is only a scratch. I want to see who else lives here and find out what these people are like,” she says, looking past Clio to the tents and boats.

“He attacked you. We should not stay here. If it happens again, I will kill them all!” Clio declares dramatically.

Porrima rolls her eyes, then looks back to where the man had gone. She sees him emerge from a tent with an elderly woman in tow. “Come, let’s not make that woman have to walk the whole way here,” Porrima says and begins walking toward the northman and woman.

“Before we get there, can I ask how you know their language?” Maleek questions, his confused expression making Porrima laugh lightly.

“We are goddesses, my love cub. We can communicate with all without even realizing that we are doing so. We just speak, and humans understand,” Clio explains, shrugging a shoulder at the end. Maleek hums in response, deep in thought.

As they approach the northman and the woman, he calls out to Porrima, “Stop! You should not be walking. Moving will make the blood flow more.”

“I assure you, I will be fine. It is barely a scratch,” she shrugs.

The man’s eyebrows furrow as he takes in her words, then he nods and gives her a look of approval. “You must be a shield maiden, trained in battle.”

Porrima laughs out. “Something like that!”

The elderly woman reaches for Porrima’s neck and smears some sort of salve over the wound. She looks back to the northman and nods. “Follow us,” she commands.

The three follow the elderly woman to the center of the encampment, between the tents and the water. The northman lifts the horn of an animal from where it had been strapped to his thick thigh and blows into it. Immediately, people come out from tents, the woods, and the boats. They gather around the man and the three travelers.

The elderly woman shouts to the people, “As your queen, I command you all to welcome these travelers into our port. They express a yearning to learn, to reach out in good will, and we shall return it in kind. Ívarr has tested the dark woman and found her to be of brave spirit and honest in her speech. They understand our language, now help them to understand our customs.” She then turns to the man she called Ívarr and takes his hand. He helps her back to the largest tent in the area.

“I guess we get to start introducing ourselves now,” Clio said once she finished translating what the queen had told her people, but before they could take a step, Ívarr returned.

“Come. The warriors are about to train. You can watch, or you can join in if you want.” There was a twinkle in his turquoise eyes that Porrima took as a challenge.

“I’m not sure you’d be standing at the end of the day if I did,” she boasts, doing her best to match her footsteps with his long strides. Truly, in all of her years searching for her man, she had never seen a man as tall or as striking as this man. If she were not a god herself, she might have mistaken him for one.

“Then join us you shall,” he says in a guff rumble of a voice.

As they make their way into the woods, they find a large cleared portion, the wood of the trees likely used for their boats. Men and women of all ages were gathered with different weaponry and various leather garments. Most of the people had the same fair appearance, though the turquoise of Ívarr’s eyes seemed to be unique to him. Many of them had similar black and green markings on their skin as well.

Ívarr whistled in different patterns and the people began sparring all together, using true blades and weaponry. If they had happened upon it initially, they’d have mistaken it for battle. As she observed kill swings and shots, she realized that the warriors stopped just short of causing damage…well, damage that would require much by way of medical attention anyway. After watching for a moment, Porrima smiled at Clio, knowing Clio would love to take part in this. The twins each drew their weapons and joined in the massive spar. They dodged and swung, their movements in time with one another, making it appear as though they were part of a choreographed dance. One by one, they delivered “death blows”, clearing the ring until it was only the two standing, laughing as they embraced each other. The people of Nordvegen stared at them, obviously trying to figure out how just two people defeated all of their warriors.

Ívarr claps his hands, shaking his head. As he opened his mouth to speak, another warrior asked, “How do two different nations fight together the way you do?”

Clio and Porrima looked at each other, then Porrima answered the warrior, “Two people who are bound together with love can always work together well, regardless of nation. Still, we are not of different nations; we are sisters, twins.”

“You cannot be twins! You look of different countries! It is not possible!” They warrior exclaims.

Ívarr replies to him quickly, “Do you doubt the gods so much that you question their ability to create two vastly different children in one womb?”

The warrior bows his head and apologizes for any perceived disrespect.

Another warrior calls out, “I am Aghi! These twins shall feast at my table this evening!”

“As well as my husband,” Clio replied. Aghi looked like the air had been blown from his lungs.

“First, they must battle me,” Ívarr declared. In one hand he held an ax, the other a knife.

The twins nodded and the battle began. The twins attacked and defended in time with Ívarr. As Porrima slid on her knees avoiding a blow, Ívarr grabbed Clio and held his knife to her neck the way he had against Porrima’s earlier in the day. Seeing the action angered Porrima, who swung her sword quickly enough to stir the dust from the ground as Clio walked over and embraced Maleek. Ívarr watched as Porrima moved quickly around him, her blade making small nicks in his pants, a few of the pieces of cloth in his hair, anything that would not harm him but would prove her superior to him. Just as she moved her blade again, he grabbed her waist and spun, having her land on her back, his ax to her throat.

“Death blow,” he says softly.

Porrima smirks, angling her blade against the back of his neck so he could feel it. “Yes, it is,” she said. The crowd around them remain quiet as they take in the draw between the dueling warrior and goddess. Ívarr makes no attempt to remove himself from Porrima.

“Shall we go again until one wins then?” He asks, clearly beguiled by the situation.

“Maybe tomorrow, I will properly hand you your ass. Right now, I have a dinner invitation to prepare for and attend,” Porrima says cooly, her voice devoid of any affection.

Ívarr stands and reaches his hand to Porrima who looks at it, then chooses to lift herself from the ground. “Thank you, but I can take care of myself.”

“I can see that; but it doesn’t mean you always have to,” he replies. She watches as he shakes his head again and walks over to Maleek and Clio. He exchanges some words with Maleek, then with Clio before he quickly shakes Clio’s hand. Porrima watched as Clio dropped to her knees, gasping and crying out in horror. Porrima runs to her twin, her blade drawn and ready to behead anyone to cause her sister anguish.

“What happened?” Maleek asks Clio. “Porrima, he was just telling her what an admirable fighter she was, then she collapsed.”

“She saw,” Porrima says quietly to Maleek.

Ívarr tips his head to the side, deep in thought. “She is a seer,” he declares. “Should I be worried about my future?”

“She only sees the past,” Porrima snaps, only to see the horror Clio had on her face wash over Ívarr’s.

He looks at Clio, “It is only mine to tell. Speak of it to know one!” He then leaves quickly.

“Do we need to leave?” Porrima concernedly asks Clio.

“No. We need to stay. I never knew a human could suffer as he has and not die,” Clio whispers as tears pour down her face. Maleek embraces Clio and the three walk to the outer edge of the village. The twins retrieve the items needed to set up their tents, then wash their hands before heading to meet the others for dinner.

The three travelers wandered through the northman’s village until they found a large tent that was set up as a dining hall. It housed many tables and benches for the people to all eat together. Two men carried in a hog that had been roasted over a fire. Bread, vegetables, and mead were set on the tables for everyone to serve themselves. Clio, Maleek, and Porrima found the table where Aghi sat. He stood when he saw them, gesturing for them to take a seat. Aghi talked a lot, mostly to Clio, who translated to Maleek. Porrima was truly interested in learning about the people here, but she could not stop thinking about the interaction between Clio and Ívarr. She couldn’t help but be impressed by his fighting skills and his astute assessment of Clio’s powers. If he didn’t have such a propensity to vex her so flagrantly, she might have even found him attractive. She huffed in annoyance before excusing herself to her tent.

After a night of fitful sleep, Porrima left her tent just before the sun rose and made her way to the waterfront. She knew it would be cold, but she was in desperate need of a bath after yesterday. She disrobed at the woodline and slid herself into the water, her soap in tow. As she finished bathing, the sun’s light cast a red-orange hue on the earth. She looked toward the sun and watched its rays kiss the earth and spread its color across the water. A splash behind her broke her wonder, and she turned to see a pair of pants and a set of boots on the shore. Soon, Ívarr’s head broke the surface of the water.

“Not many enter the water before me in the morning,” he stated, staring into Porrima’s green eyes.

“I had difficulty sleeping,” Porrima said shortly, beginning her swim back to the shore.

“Did your sister tell you?” His voice was barely above a whisper as he asked his question. The vulnerability of it caused Porrima to stop and turn to face him.

“No, she did not. Nor did I ask for any detail of what she saw as it was obvious that you did not want others to know whatever it was,” she relayed calmly.

“She saw when I was taken as a young boy. She saw the slaug.hter of my father and siblings. She saw me brutally beaten over the years, until my mother had amassed enough warriors to rescue me from our enemies,” he said quietly. “I was but a year old when they came, twenty when rescued. For fifteen years I have studied the ways of the warrior among my people so that the same will never happen to any of us ever again.”

“I am so sorry,” Porrima’s voice remained strong, but the validity of her words was evident. She hesitated before asking, “Do you want revenge?”

“I do not. I figure the gods can handle any justice needed. I only wish to protect my people, my loved ones.”

“I see,” Porrima nodded. “We might be able to help you with that.” Her voice came out shaky as the cold of the water felt like it had seeped into her bones.

“Go. Make sure you dry thoroughly by a fire before putting your clothes back on so you won’t trap the moisture within, or you’ll never get warm.”

“What about you? Are you coming in, too?”

Ívarr laughed. “I am here to fish so we all have a fresh lunch today.”

“Oh,” Porrima said, turning away and swimming back to her clothes. She walked ashore and grabbed her clothing, not looking back until she was at her tent. She entered and looked back out through the flap to watch Ívarr spear fish after fish, his body lithe in the water, his muscles highlighted by the sparkling water on his pale skin. She then closed the flap and reached into her satchel to dry out soft towels to dry the water and warm oils to rub into her skin and hair. Once she was comfortable, she lay back in her bed to nap a moment before Clio and Maleek woke up. It was no secret that they were late risers!

*****

Porrima opened her eyes, acutely aware that it was near dawn. She threw off her blankets and grabbed her cloak, making her way into the woods. She climbed the first tree, then reached for a branch on the tree next to it. One by one, she made her way down the shore treeline until she was at the shore. She secured herself against the trunk and drew her bow and arrow. Clio and Maleek led their group of warriors through the tents to the shore, the yellow cloth tied to the mast of a boat. This battle had been planned for three months now, and Porrima refused to lose to that infuriating northman.

She knew her team had won when she saw the reeds of the warriors peeking through the water. They used hollow straws to breathe as they waited for the land team to approach the boat. She hadn’t been sure that they’d use this tactic, but after seeing Ívarr use it in the recent mornings while he fished, she had thought it a smart move, which is why she is now in the tops of the trees. As Clio’s troops approach the water, Ívarr’s team break through the surface and draw their weaponry. Quickly, Porrima secures a heavy line to one arrow, with a triple head. She then watches, and as the water men approach Clio’s crew, she shoots them with a headless, chalked arrow, marking them as “dead”. More and more wet men sit as having been defeated, yet the flag remains. Porrima releases her last chalk arrow, then stands on the branch, readying her triple-headed arrow.

“What are you going to do with that?” Ívarr’s voice is nearly next to her.

She glances to the side and sees he is nearly to her, his ax readied. “Win,” she replies as she lets the arrow loose, its triple head embedding deep into the wooden mast. She throws her cloak off and over Ívarr, then takes her silk nightgown and places it atop the heavy cord that is now taught between the tree and jumps, the silk sliding quickly from the tree to the boat. Just before she reaches the boat, the heavy chord is loosened and she plummets into the water.

“Porrima!” Clio screams, running toward the shore. Ívarr watches, waiting to see her head come up, but as the seconds pass and there is no sign of her, he is suddenly filled with panic. He scales down the tree and drives into the water. Over and over again, he submerges himself looking for Porrima, but finding nothing. Soon, he reaches the boat, and rises up for another breath, but is instead met with a yellow cloth in his face. He pulls the cloth aside and looks up to see a soaked Porrima…with a breathing straw wiggling between her fingers. The smile on her face nearly makes him forget the anger that was surfacing that she had tricked him so easily.

He grabs a rope on the side of the ship and pulls himself up, grabbing the front of Porrima’s shirt and pulls her back in with him before he swims to shore. Porrima is just behind him and watches as he peels his wet clothing off in front of everyone present. She shouldn’t be surprised, as all of the men who were submerged have since done the same so that they would not freeze. What she didn’t expect was for her throat to go dry and her limbs to forget how to swim when she sees his beautifully sculpted ass, perfectly rounded above two thick, muscular thighs. He looks over his shoulder at her, and when he sees that she is struggling to get to shore, he reaches his hand to her. She hesitates for a moment before putting her hand in his.

Immediately, she sees his future. She sees herself by his side, building this small tent village into a thriving port. She sees many nights of love making that send immediate arousal throughout her body. She sees herself ask her father to bestow longevity to him because she knew that she could not live in a world without him.

“Porrima!” His voice breaks the vision as he lifts her against himself and carries her ashore.

Clio runs to her, pulling her from Ívarr, who kneels beside her. Porrima looks into Clio’s eyes and nods. “The one,” she whispers. Clio looks at Ívarr, unsure of her own feelings.

“Listen, I am pretty secure with my own equipment, but would you mind tucking that sea monster away when you’re that close to my wife?” Maleek asks Ívarr, making Clio laugh.

She gingerly releases her twin and turns to her husband. “You have no worries, my love cub.”

“What does ‘love cub’ even mean?” Porrima’s voice groans in annoyance as she looks at her sister and her brother-in-law. She sits up, her fingers aching deeply with cold.

Ívarr stands and walks to his tent without a word. After her vision, she doesn’t understand how he can just leave her there. She stands quickly and marches after him, ignoring the fact that her soaked clothing is weighing her down. Porrima ignores all privacy protocol and walks in after him. He is standing in the center, his back to her, and his hands over his face.

“If you are mad that I won, we can plan another battle for you to have a chance to win,” she blurts.

“I am not upset about losing the game; I am upset that, for a moment, I had believed that I had lost you and by my own hand no less.” His voice is low and dripping in emotion.

“I am fine. Really. It takes much more than you’d think to be able to kill me,” Porrima rambles, her teeth beginning to chatter from the cold.

He turns to look at her and rushes to her, immediately stripping her clothes from her body and throwing each piece out of his tent. “Do you know the damage freezing causes? You could lose your fingers, your toes, your life!”

As he stills in front of her, she takes in his body, the black and green markings mixing with thousands of scars, yet his skin is beautiful to her. She skims her fingers along his skin, tracing his markings.

His eyes look at her body and he kneels before her. “You are as beautiful, as wise, and as deadly as divinity. I could never love another as I love you. I pledge myself to you Porrima, for eternity, if you will have me.”

Porrima wraps her arms around his neck. “For eternity. We’ll discuss the divinity thing after.”

“After what?”

Porrima leads him to his bed and gently pushes him down. She strokes herself for a moment, making herself slick, the view making Ívarr ready for her. She leans down and drags her tongue up his length before straddling his hips. The minute she drops down on his length, the earth shudders, signifying the end of the curse. Porrima leans forward and kisses him deeply.

“Porrima, I am heading to the Temple of Carmenae,” Clio shouts through the cloth wall of the tent.

“Safe travels! Goodbye!” Porrima shouts back, causing Ívarr to laugh, which Porrima feels deep within herself.

Ívarr flips her over onto her knees, quickly entering her again. He kisses his way up her spine before he begins stroking her inner walls with his c**k. Porrima tries to hold it in, but her moan fills his ears like a battle horn.

“Divinity, huh? I promise to use every ounce of my flesh to worship you and your body Porrima, for eternity,” he purrs in her ear.

Time and again, he did just that.

Title: Before and After: Sisters of Fate

Pen Name: Jayleigh Wright

Previous work: Zari, a completed novel on Dreame.

Facebook: Jaylie Wright

Author Group: https://w**************m/groups/1139346953346281/?ref=share_group_link

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**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, completely unique from any prior writings regarding the Roman Carmenae, Salacia, and Jupiter. I do know their mythological histories, but have chosen to rewrite it for this story, only loosely basing it on the deities.**