The World Builder

“Debilmir!” Zduhach shot an arrow into Triglav of the Present’s eye, spraying blood on Dragomir’s face.

Triglav pulled out the arrow, breaking it in his fingers, while still holding Dragomir.

“My arrow!”

“Losing an eye means little to us,” Triglav said. “Blindness has its uses.”

“Zduhach, do something! He’ll kill him!” Milena tugged at Zduhach’s arm.

“I thought… you couldn’t talk… like a sane person.” Dragomir gasped.

“You still don’t know anything, do you? Killing two gods has one rather pleasant side effect. It makes the remaining gods a little stronger.”

Zduhach aimed another arrow at the baby head but was stopped by Milena. “What are you doing?! Not the baby!”

“That’s not a baby, that’s a detestable god!”

Milena then realized. “Wait… blindness has its uses? Is that why he always switches the blindfolds?”

“Now give me those dushe! The Twelfth and Thirteenth Commandments will be mine to write!”

Dragomir’s face gradually turned purplish. His eyes drifted slowly towards Triglav of the Past, then towards Triglav of the Future. Both of them had their blindfolds still on.

“Z-duhach…!” Dragomir pointed at the baby’s blindfold. He then reached for Triglav of the Past’s head and pulled at his blindfold, untying it.

At the same time, Zduhach shot an arrow at Triglav of the Future’s head. The arrow sliced through the side of the blindfold, sending it loose.

“No!” Triglav of the Present dropped Dragomir, as the bohatier finally gasped for air.

The future head screamed. The present and past heads joined in the agony.

He stumbled. His body flickered. For a heartbeat, his skin was wrinkled and ancient. Then smooth as a child’s. Then young again.

“Stop… stop looking…!” His two heads began speaking over one another.

“It already happened!”

“It is happening!”

“Waaaaaghhh!”

“I what should want to this blindfold relic write stop my aging domain Third!”

Their voices collapsed into a single scream. Triglav pulled at his red beard, his grey hair and the youngest ear as the bohatiers watched without a single sound.

Then, for one impossible moment, all three became the same age. The god reached for Dragomir’s axe and cut off his past and future heads.

But whatever the blindfolds had kept apart was already one.

Triglav froze. And collapsed.

The light started penetrating the cave, piercing through its cold stones. The rocks crumbled, and the familiar wind blew in the bohatiers’ faces once more. And then again, precisely three seconds later.

“What was that about?” Zduhach asked as he stood beside the broken arrow.

“His three timelines merged…? I think?” Dragomir panted, still holding his throat. Levoslav’s dushe kept hovering above him, linked to his wrist.

“Look at my arrow… I hope it didn’t feel any pain…”

“Heh… think of it this way. It served its purpose. One arrow down, one god down.” Dragomir tried to use Zduhach’s own logic to his advantage.

“You’re right!” Zduhach sniffled as if he’d just cried a river. “If all it takes to finish a god is to sacrifice one arrow, then it should be fine!”

“Heh, you’re really a weird guy, right, Milena?”

Dragomir giggled and looked for an approving nod from his lover.

But she was in no state to react. She lay on the rocky ground, her body shaking.

“Milena!”

Dragomir kneeled beside her. He pressed a hand to her forehead. Her lips were trembling, her eyes closed. “She’s burning!”

“What? What do we do? Should I get something cold? Do we put her in the river?” Zduhach panicked.

“Dammit! We need her to rest! And keep her warm!”

“What if we went back to that boar-head guy’s home?”

“I don’t know…! I think we just got lucky the last time. We have to follow the river. It should lead us to safety!”

Dragomir then gently picked Milena up and draped her over his shoulders. “Can you take the Little Table?” But Zduhach took her and carried her across his back and shoulders instead.

“Let me carry her, I’m stronger!”

“Thanks, Zduhach!”

“Mhmmm…” Milena mumbled.

“Don’t try to talk… it’s gonna be alright.” Dragomir gently patted her head and then picked up the table.

A few moments later, they strode along a peaceful river. The water was crystal clear and the current was too weak to pose any danger.

“Should we let her sip some water?” Zduhach asked.

“No way. That thing isn’t drinkable.” Dragomir stopped and set down the table. “We should take a break and let her drink some ginger tea. It can help fight her fever. Want something to eat while we’re at it?”

“No… I don’t think I have any appetite when she’s in this condition.” Zduhach gently placed her on the grass and sat beside her to support her back.

“Little Table, Lay the Feast!” Dragomir commanded. The aroma of hot ginger tea filled the air. Three cups of water were ready, too. Dragomir handed one cup to Zduhach. “Here, let’s not forget to stay hydrated…”

Then he took the tea and held Milena’s head, her hair already soaked with cold sweat. He lifted her head slightly and held a small wooden cup to her lips. She managed a weak sip. “Come on, have some more.” Then she sipped again.

“Where are we even going?” Zduhach drained his cup in a single gulp.

“A blacksmith’s house should be somewhere near the river. Milena can rest there.”

“A blacksmith? Do you mean… Svarog the World Builder?”

“Yeah. The God of Creation.”

Zduhach’s jaw dropped a little. But then he smirked. “If you say that’s where Milena will be safe, I trust you!”

Once the cups were all empty, they were about to resume their journey. But as they got ready to set off, they realized they didn’t have to.

A small wooden house with a half-open workshop attached to its side stood before their eyes. A sloping roof sheltered the forge, anvil and stacks of firewood, while the front remained open to the road.

“That’s a stark contrast to that boar-head’s house.”

“Svarog values tradition. Unlike the others, he’s a bit of a … dork. He reminds me of you.”

“Huh?” Zduhach tilted his head.

“Never mind. Let’s go. He’s the one who created the Little Table for us.” Dragomir walked ahead.

Zduhach adjusted Milena on his back and sped up. “So he’s a good guy? How am I supposed to kill him then?”

Heat struck Dragomir the moment he entered the workshop. “Svarog?” he called out. But nobody answered.

The smithy was little more than a wooden shed built around a blazing forge. Soot blackened the beams above it, while hammers, tongs, and unfinished blades hung from the walls. An anvil stood on a thick wooden stump next to a barrel of dark water.

Zduhach, in the meantime, slipped into the house through the main door.

“Debilmir?” He called out from the inside.

The curly-haired bohatier felt something was off. He gripped his battle-axe and dashed inside through the connecting door from the workshop.

When he rejoined his allies, a horrible sight awaited him.

“Well, that solves my dilemma…” Zduhach said dryly.

Svarog lay on the floor, his head split open. A huge iron mallet lay beside his lifeless body. Its head was completely shattered.

“Oh no…” Dragomir dropped his battle-axe.

“Damn these monsters. They would even kill their own!”

“No, Zduhach.” Dragomir walked toward Svarog and touched his arm. “There’s another bohatier besides us.”

Chapter 27: END