Sabledrake Magazine
November, 2001
Feature Articles
Thoughts on the Evolution of PBeM
Wraith Over Her Shoulder, Pt. I
Regular Articles
Resources
Old Gods
Copyright © 2001 By Jessie Feff
In the shimmery heat of the mid-afternoon sun, Sheila dozed, her eyes shadowed by an indifferently placed left hand. There was a soft rhythm to the up and down bounce of the car; the road was horrible, but the car’s shocks were good, and overall it had the lulling effect of being at sea, rocked gently by the waves. Sheila had felt awkward--guilty, even--about silently sleeping in the passenger’s seat, especially when the driver had been kind enough to pick her up, but given the circumstances, there was little else to do. After a few stilted attempts at conversation, it became apparent that Jo (she’d managed to get a name, at least, for the petite brunette) was not one of those types who pick up a hitchhiker for companionship on a long drive. She didn’t play the radio either, and with the lack of stimulation Sheila had finally given up fighting to stay awake and simply let sleep take her. She was in and out of it now; getting glimmers of dreams between blinking lazily at the sights out her window, when a particularly large bump jolted her momentarily awake.
Her eyes fluttered half-open again, and she struggled to figure out what was different this time. After a half-instant of addled logic, she had it: the car was slowing down. They were stopping.
Sheila stifled a yawn as she straightened, worked a kink out of her neck, and glanced at her driver quizzically. Jo lifted an index finger from the wheel and pointed to the rusted out shell of an ancient truck sitting in the ditch a few yards away from them. “Picking him up.”
Sheila raised a hand to shield her eyes once more and peered at the hunk of junk. Sure enough, there in its shadow was a man resting in the grass, right hand held in the air with a thumb extended. After the stark light of the afternoon sun, the shadow seemed absolute black. Only his faint silhouette told Sheila the gender of this new hitchhiker; nothing definite could be seen save for the subtle glimmer of white teeth as he flashed them a grin. As the car came to a stop, he slowly raised his hand nearly a foot higher into the air, changing his signal as he did so. The thumb retreated and his first two digits straightened, pointing up in a V.
Jo rolled down her window and half-stood, sticking her head out. “Hop in. Plenty of room.” She pulled herself back in and tossed a glance to Sheila. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Sheila shook her head slowly. “It’s your car. I’m cool if you’re cool.” That was a lie. She didn’t feel cool about this at all. Something--she wasn’t sure what, exactly--wasn’t right here. She sneaked a long look at Jo again, while the slim woman adjusted her mirror, seemingly oblivious. What kind of woman drives along a practically deserted, gutted old road in the middle of nowhere in an almost brand-new Cavalier, picking up every hitchhiker she sees, only to ignore them once they’re inside and drive on in silence? Maybe if she were an older lady it wouldn’t seem so absurd…an older, grandmotherly, church-going type who picked up strangers and gave them rides didn’t seem so out of the question, for whatever reason. But Jo? A lovely young thing that Sheila guessed might even be a year or two younger than herself? Why should she bother? Even with a kind heart…shouldn’t she know better? Perhaps Sheila looked harmless enough to pick up with no worries…but a second hitchhiker, and a man at that? This was almost like one of those bad teen slasher films…
The door behind her swung open and they were jostled minutely as the man hopped into the car. “Much obliged. I just need a lift to the next town.” His voice was a warm tenor with just a trace of a Texas drawl. Sheila tried to look over her left shoulder for a good look at him, but from his position behind her all she could see was his left hand, clutching a green plastic cooler by a marred white handle, and a bit of his arm, covered in a work shirt so worn and thin his tanned skin seemed to glow from beneath it. Jo slipped the car into gear and began to pull forward slowly.
“Hi. I’m Sheila.” Much obliged? Do people actually say that?
“John.” Without actually seeing it, she could feel his laughing grin and knew it was indescribably white with a mouthful of perfect teeth. She could also sense as he switched his target, directing the grin now at Jo. “As I said, ma’am, just need to get to town and get a tow. Damn truck overheated and left me stranded out here. Second time this month. Gonna have to spring for a new radiator, maybe.”
Sheila furrowed her brow and took a frantic last look at the wreck increasingly far behind them. It was sixty years old if it was a day, and looked as if it hadn’t run for at least thirty. The frame was so rusted there was no indication of what color the paint used to be. There were no tires, at least on the side she could see. The hood was lying a few feet away in the ditch…and the motor was missing. Stalks of tall grass waved at her mockingly from the shell of the truck as they pulled away, picking up speed.
“’Zat so?” Jo asked lazily. “Well, glad to be of help. Name’s Jo, by the way.” Sheila whipped her head around and for a moment stared at the driver, her mouth opening and closing like a fish’s as she tried to sort out her thoughts enough to speak.
From the backseat, the stranger was still making conversation in an easy tone of voice. “I used to live around here, while back, you know? Just making the rounds…”
Sheila was frozen. She could do nothing but watch as Jo brought a hand to her face and rubbed the thumb against the side of her aristocratic nose. “Mmm-hmm….” The same kind of non-committal “I’m listening, really, I am” noise she’d made when Sheila tried to converse with her. She wasn’t even paying attention to him.
“Jo, maybe--” She stopped cold as a hand rested gently on her shoulder. As if hypnotized, she turned slowly behind her and got her first good look at the hitchhiker. His left hand rested on her shoulder, index finger of his right hand pressed gently against slightly pursed lips.
“Shh…”
He was a coyote.
She didn’t scream. For a moment she could do nothing but puzzle over the strong conviction she had that (despite looking like a perfectly normal--if a bit scruffy--young man) the passenger in the backseat was, in fact, a coyote. No answers sprang to mind. He grinned again, but it was an amiable grin, despite the teeth in it; a laughing-dog grin, and without really knowing why, Sheila felt at ease. The coyote in the backseat leaned forward and began speaking in a low voice.
“You can see me for what I am…saw it in your eyes. S’okay. Only matters that she’s fooled.” Her jerked a thumb at their driver. Sheila stole a glance at Jo, who was watching only the road and, truth be told, acted as if she’d forgotten she even had passengers in the first place.
Sheila twisted around in her seat, knees pressed against the soft fabric of the seat cover and arms wrapped around the headrest. The coyote watched her with a kind of lazy interest, an eyebrow quirked. “Does she even see us anymore?” Sheila asked in a hushed voice.
The coyote gave a half-shrug of his left shoulder. “Probably not. Her disguise is much better than mine, but her observational skills always did lack.”
Sheila narrowed her eyes and stared at the dark-tressed woman at the wheel. “So she’s in disguise too?” No matter how long she stared, Jo’s appearance never wavered and refocused; never slipped and showed the true self under the superimposed image. “Who is she?”
“S’a good disguise, isn’t it? I ‘spose it’d have to be. She’s out among humans a lot.” The coyote gave a bone-cracking yawn and leaned back, stretching his arms. “She’s Crow.” Now that he had named her, Sheila could see hints here and there of her true nature: the blue-black hair and sharp nose, the almost hollow thinness of the bones in her wrist.
“Where are we going?” Sheila could only manage a mild curiosity at her calmness. Given the situation, moderate panic seemed warranted, if not out and out hysteria.
“Bear’s palace. I’m stagin’ a jail break.” Calm or not, the look of confusion that must have washed over Sheila’s face make Coyote chuckle. “Crow’s one of his flunkies. He has a lot of them. He’s been sendin’ Crow out to gather people to serve in his palace. Humans, you know. They used to worship us…” Coyote flapped his hand in a vague manner. “Way back when, they used to. And then they moved on. S’the way things work.” Sheila nodded slowly. She was riding in a 2000 model Chevrolet with two gods. “A lot of us just accepted it. Some didn’t. Bear, mostly. He convinced quite a few of them that it was time to go back to old ways…whether the humans want to or not, you know? So he’s got his flunkies out snatchin’ people. He got a friend of mine, too. Can you credit that, a fellow god servin’ in bondage? S’just not right.” A dark scowl passed over Coyote’s face and was gone in a moment. “So, anyways…gonna sneak in and let ‘em out.” Again he flashed the grin Sheila was finding more and more irresistible. “Wanna help?”
* * *
It had grown dark by the time they reached their destination. Sheila hadn’t really noticed the time slip past--in fact she’d dozed a bit more after Coyote had finished his tale and dropped off to sleep--and she wondered if that was one of Crow’s tricks. What would she have done if I’d gotten restless and demanded she drop me off? Then again, they had passed no towns at all; no more people either. Sheila stole a glance at Coyote, still sleeping with his limbs flung wide, snoring softly. She looked out the window, and couldn’t see much but indistinct shapes just beyond the headlights’ reach. As soon as light touched an area where she knew something had been before, it was empty. She rolled down her window a crack. The air smelled of pine.
The car began to slow, then rolled to a stop. “Wake up, Sheila,” came Jo’s bland voice. “Wake up, John. We’re here.” Sheila looked at Crow, but her kidnapper’s mask did not slip. She looked just as human as she had when first offering Sheila a lift at the gas station. Sheila bit her lip and shook Coyote’s knee gently. She wasn’t sure how to react. He would know.
He woke with an exaggerated yawn and a stretch, scraping his knuckles against the low ceiling of the car. “We in town already, ma’am? I sure did sleep well on that drive.” Clearly he was still playing human as he looked out the window and mimed shock and confusion. “But where are we? This ain’t the town!”
“You will live here now. Please get out.” Crow turned off the motor and took the key from the ignition.
“What do you mean--” Coyote stopped short, sputtering as Crow simply opened her door and walked away into the inky blackness. Then he shot Sheila a wink.
Sheila arched an eyebrow at him. “Now what?”
He was beginning to shrug when the dome light went off. “Get out, I guess.” She could feel his grin, and she nodded, pawing in the darkness for the door handle. She found it and stepped out as the dome light came on again, lighting the ground beneath her feet. Mossy, damp, and alive…carpeted in pine needles. Coyote placed his hand at her shoulder, guiding her away from the car and into the blackness. Her eyes began to adjust.
A shape moved toward them…humanoid, but also not at all. He held up a torch of living wood and the end flared into life. It was Chipmunk. He made no effort to hide his identity with a human disguise.
“You humans come with me,” he chirped sternly. He held the torch up higher, lighting their way along a faint path through the trees. Sheila followed him, Coyote behind her, his hand still at her shoulder, his grin still in her mind. The light from the torch fell only before them; not behind, not to the sides. Sheila set her jaw and looked only forward, ignoring the utter void at either side of her. The walk was like the car ride, in that time seemed indistinct. Sheila might even have slept again, she wasn’t sure. Maybe they didn’t even walk that far. She didn’t get tired. She remembered coming to a wall of bushes that Chipmunk pulled open in some mysterious way, and beyond them was Bear’s palace, well-lit with a thousand torches. Chipmunk spoke for the first time since the walk had begun. “This is Bear’s palace. You will live here now and serve us.” He pointed with his torch to a magnificent archway. “Go forward, to the Great Hall, and see Rattlesnake. She will assign you your tasks.”
Sheila hesitated for the first time since the odd march had begun, and Chipmunk looked at her oddly. Then she felt Coyote slip his hand into hers and she nodded once, sharply, and walked to the entrance of Bear’s palace.
When they entered the long echoing hallway, they were alone. Sheila looked at Coyote quizzically, her voice hushed. “Now what?”
He held onto her hand firmly. “We keep walkin’…” Sheila nodded, evening out her pace to match with his. His tongue pushed against the side of his mouth as he thought silently for a moment. Then he shrugged. “I’ll think of somethin’.” He flashed his rogue’s grin and that was the end of that.
The hallway began to branch off into other rooms and smaller halls. Sheila could see people moving around in the rooms, tidying them up; hurrying down the halls with trays of food. Anytime she caught someone’s eye, he would duck his head and look sorrowful. Coyote squeezed her hand gently. “Don’t worry. We’ll set them free.”
They were finally approaching a large set of double doors; huge wooden things that were carved with pictures of all the old gods, and below them, humans bearing gifts and offerings. A carving of Bear sat near the top of the doors with Crow perched close-by on a thorn bush. There was Chipmunk and Rattlesnake and Deer and Owl and so many more…and at the very top was a carving of Coyote, but he was separate from the others, in his own corner of the doors, his canine jaws cracked open in his customary expression. A few of the other gods seemed to be purposely ignoring him; a few scowled in his direction with open disgust. Still more smiled on him adoringly.
Sheila pointed to the carving, about to ask him what it meant, when Coyote took a half-step forward, his body suddenly tense. A figure rose from the side of the hallway, where, in the shadows, Sheila hadn’t noticed her. Her posture was stooped and she looked as if her spirit was broken.
She was a god, too.
“Elk…” Coyote breathed almost silently, and Sheila could hear distress in his voice for the first time. Elk seemed not to hear him, only moving painfully with bent shoulders to pull open the doors.
Sheila saw the pained look on Coyote’s face as he watched Elk, her task done, slip back into the shadows to stand stooped and silent. Sheila gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry. We’ll set her free.” Coyote looked at her for a moment, then nodded.
He looked all business again, or as much as he ever did before cracking his face in a silent dog-laugh. Coyote took his hand from Sheila and grasped her by both shoulders for an instant; a gesture of soldierly camaraderie. Then he whirled about and marched into the Great Hall. Sheila scuttled after him, afraid to enter, but not wishing to be left behind.
Without Coyote beside her Sheila had to gasp at what she looked on. The throne was of great pine-wood, as was the rest of the palace, and it was elevated on a dais. At the foot of the dais, Rattlesnake sat, looking as cruel as she looked pleased by the new servants Crow had gathered. She was a snake, and she wasn’t. She was shaped like a human, but not at all. When Sheila looked at her, just as when she had looked at Chipmunk (and even Elk, no matter how beaten down she was), she was very aware that she was looking at a god. A faded god that had fallen out of favor with humankind, perhaps, but a god nonetheless.
And on the throne itself, sat Bear.
He was the same as the others, but he was more, for he was enormous. He filled the throne, as he seemed to fill the whole room. He didn’t look particularly cruel, as Rattlesnake did, but he did look at her in a way that made Sheila feel very small and insignificant. She began to shake, and forced herself to look away from him. Instead she looked at Coyote.
He stopped next to Rattlesnake and crossed his arms sternly. “Just what is the meaning of this?” he asked, as if he where an indignant man at a restaurant complaining of slow service.
“What?” Rattlesnake began to laugh. “You belong to us now, and we are your masters. You do not question us.” When she spoke, her voice had less of a hiss than Sheila imagined it would. Somehow that gave her strength, and she walked closer to the throne herself.
Coyote barked a laugh. “Belong to you? Nope. I belong to myself.”
Bear’s lazy growl echoed off the walls. “You’re different from the rest of them.” Sheila froze, afraid Coyote’s human disguise had been penetrated.
“Different? Nope. I just know the difference between bein’ stolen and bein’ owned outright.” Bear leaned forward in his chair at this, while Rattlesnake narrowed her eyes. Coyote yawned and stretched his arms behind him. “You should know that when you steal something, there’s always a chance someone else’ll steal it back. But, when you own something…say, win it fair and square…well, then it belongs to you proper. Take these folks you got here, for example. You stole ‘em away, and they didn’t have any choice in the matter. If someone were to come along and steal ‘em from you, why, you’d have no rightful claim would you?”
Bear, deep in brooding thought, nodded slowly. “Then what do you propose? I may have stolen you and your kind, but I won’t just give them back.”
Coyote grinned, and this one was a doozy. “Not asking for that. Just want you to do it fair. How about this: we can play a game of poker, me and you. If I win, well, then you just let all these folks that you got here against their will go free. And promise not to take any more.”
Bear was beginning to grin, too. “And if I win?”
Coyote thought a moment, scratching his scruffy chin and looking innocent as can be. “If you win, then you can have me and my people fair and square.”
Bear rumbled a laugh that shook the hall. “Are you aware, little man, that I am a god?”
Coyote shrugged. “I’m a pretty fair card player myself. So we got ourselves a deal here; shake on it?”
Bear chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. “No need. I am bound by Old law. If you win--” He interrupted himself with an indulgent chuckle, and continued. “If you win, the servants shall be freed, with my guarantee not to take replacements. And should I win…your people are mine. All of them. Forever.”
Sheila’s eyes widened and she shot Coyote a frantic look. She opened her mouth to protest, but all that came out was an almost inaudible squeak. Coyote turned to her for a moment and shook his head. Trust me, he mouthed silently. And, amazingly, she did.
Bear stood, and gestured to an ornately carved table Sheila hadn’t noticed before. Coyote, looking almost cocky, pulled out one of the chair and sat on it backwards, his legs straddling the backrest. Bear scoffed, settling smugly into a chair that was somehow both the same as the one Coyote sat on and enormous enough to support his girth. He nodded to Rattlesnake, and she dealt the cards.
* * *
Sheila knew next to nothing about poker, but she could tell that Bear was clearly outmatched from the get-go. Even Rattlesnake began to look decidedly uncomfortable as the game progressed. The only one actually surprise by the outcome, it seemed, was Bear.
“A royal flush?!” The moss began to shake loose from the ceiling as Bear roared his frustration.
Coyote brushed a bit of lichen from his shirtfront and smiled roguishly, laying his cards neatly on the table. “Yep, and I reckon that squarely beats your full house. Better luck next time, old man.” He stood smoothly and in one motion pivoted his chair around and slid it back under the table.
Bear was oblivious, looking from his hand to Coyote’s to his again. “A royal flush…” he growled. “I’m a god for fuck’s sake! How is that even possible?” Sheila, standing near the doorway, saw Elk peer inside the throne room. No longer bent and broken-looking, she held herself high with the grace befitting a god. Sheila gave her a thumbs up.
Coyote chuckled, giving Bear a “what are you going to do?” kind of look as he shrugged. “Lots of things are possible. Just between us folks…I’m actually a god, too.”
Bear looked only confused, his brow furrowing darkly. Rattlesnake narrowed her eyes and fixed Coyote with a steady gaze. Then after a moment she shrieked with accusatory recognition. “It’s Coyote! He’s not a human at all!”
Bear rose up from his chair, growling so the whole palace shook. “Coyote! He’s tricked us again!!!”
Coyote, still wearing his human disguise, shrugged once more. “Didn’t trick you. You never asked.” Sheila, pressed up against the wall, saw Elk giggle in the shadows. “And--unless there is anything else--I guess we’ll be goin’ now.”
“You tricked us!” Rattlesnake spat.
“Damn right,” Bear growled, glaring. “The deal is null and void.”
Coyote put a finger to his chin, looking thoughtful. “Y’see…the thing of that is…it’s not. We made a deal, sealed by Old law. If I won, the servants go free. If you won, you’d get…well, all my people.”
Rattlesnake narrowed her eyes. “You have no people, dog.”
Coyote chuckled. “Works out nice that way. Point is…the deal had nothin’ to do with my bein’ a god and all. You just assumed I was human and, you know, you’d be able to beat me.” He smirked. “You know what they say happens when you assume? Don’t know about me, but it sure did make an ass out of you all.” Coyote stretched, and absently scratched his elbow. “Anyways, seein’ as how I did win, I think we’ll all be goin’ now. All of us.
Sheila flinched, afraid of the rage she knew must come…but Bear only fumed in his chair while Rattlesnake glared at him icily. After a long moment, Bear seemed to deflate. “You’re right. I yield. Everyone is free to go.”
“Much obliged.”
For an instant, Bear rose up, again filling the entire hall with his presence. “Don’t let me ever, ever see your mangy hide again!”
His back already to Bear, Coyote raised his hand, flashed a peace sign, and started towards the door at a deliberate pace. He stopped near Sheila and took her hand, then took Elk's with his other. All three of them shared a grin to rival even the smuggest coyote's, and began to walk.