Chapter 16: The Goddess of Horses and the Angel

Two months had passed since Rodrigo began living with Tania and Ana —the latter supposedly bound for Ireland, though she always found excuses not to leave.

Autumn had arrived, yet in Ibiza the heat lingered, and the change of seasons could scarcely be felt.

It was said that the ancient Phoenicians had founded the town long ago because there were no snakes on the island, and that they named it in honor of the Egyptian god Bes, who slew those creatures.

Meditating, sparring with Ana, learning to control his manná—as well as learning to read, eating, and sleeping—such was Rodrigo’s daily life.

He tried to learn more about his new mentors’ past, but they always changed the subject.

“Starting next year, we’ll take you to Lel, so you can be assigned a task and put your talents to good use,”

Tania would tell him.

One day, while they were all eating, the small bell by the cave entrance chimed.

That wasn’t unusual—Tania often received villagers who came seeking medicines or divine services, for they regarded her as a wise woman.

However, when Rodrigo went to peek outside, it wasn’t villagers at all, but two strangers he had never seen before.

The first was a tall man—easily about 5'7" in height—with fair skin, dark eyes, and long, straight black hair. He wore a black tunic like those of certain monks.

His companion was a short blonde girl with cropped hair, around 4'11" in height, dressed in a long crimson gown with golden ornaments and long sleeves.

image [https://img1.mitemin.net/js/ru/g4cdk2sf8z7rf1c11rog2vkfdx93_13qg_1jk_1jk_sgg9.jpg.580.jpg]

“Hola, ¿ser mai ispanic correct? ¿Cneatung Ana, ser siff hir?”

the blonde girl said, struggling to speak Catalan with a strong Saxon accent.

“What?”

Rodrigo replied, puzzled.

The dark-haired man began scolding the blonde in what sounded like an Anglo-Saxon tongue.

Rodrigo interrupted them in Galician:

“You’re not from around here, are you? Can I help you?”

At that moment, Ana appeared and saw the peculiar pair.

“Epona! What are you doing here?”

she asked the blonde girl who had just arrived.

Epona turned to Ana with a bright smile.

“Hi, Ana! I figured you’d be hiding here, not in Ireland.”

Rodrigo was stunned—for some reason, he now understood the blonde perfectly, even though moments ago her words had sounded completely foreign to him.

“You can speak the divine tongue here, Epona. This boy is a nephil we found recently and are training. He can understand it as well,”

Ana explained.

“Oh, really? I thought he was just your servant. And to think I tried so hard to speak Catalan!”

said Epona, rolling her eyes.

“That was your best effort? I’d hate to hear you when you’re not trying. Even a rock could give you a lecture in languages,”

the man in black remarked.

Epona’s face flushed red; she clenched her fists.

“Shut up, you stupid malak! You should be praising me and serving me—I’m your superior!”

“Sure. Good luck with that,”

he replied dryly.

The monk-like man stepped forward toward Ana and Rodrigo. When he stood before them, he bowed deeply, one hand over his chest.

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“It’s an honor to meet you, Goddess Anand. My name is Anpiel, and I am the malak assigned to this mission.”

“Here, just call me Ana,”

said the dark-haired goddess, nervously gesturing for him to ease his formality.

“That would be rather rude, my lady Mor—”

“No, no, not that name! Just Ana, or I’ll get mad!”

she interrupted quickly, flustered.

“Understood, your majesty Ana. My apologies for the offense,”

he replied, still bowed.

Epona turned her gaze toward Rodrigo, her golden eyes full of curiosity.

“And you, nephil—who are you?”

she asked. “I am the goddess Epona, mistress and lady of horses! So speak to me with respect!”

“I… I am Rodrigo, my lady. It’s an honor to meet you,”

he replied nervously, bowing before her.

“Don’t bow to her, Rui,”

Ana said with an amused grin.

“There’s nothing dignified about being ‘the lady of horses.’”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying,”

added Anpiel, still bent respectfully.

“It’s one of the most pathetic titles a god could carry.”

“Go to hell, both of you!”

Epona shouted furiously, stomping her foot.

“What would you do without horses, huh? Tell me!”

“I can fly,”

said Ana, smiling.

“So do I,”

added the malak calmly.

“Screw you both!”

Epona yelled, her face red with anger, puffing her cheeks like a sulking child.

Tania then came out from deeper inside the cave, puzzled by the noise.

“What’s with all this commotion?”

she asked.

Anpiel turned to her and bowed low.

“Your majesty Tannit, my name is Anpiel, and we have come seeking both you and Lady Anand for a special mission—by order of our great king and god of all the cosmos, El.”

“Here, just call me Tania,”

said the red-haired goddess.

“As you wish, your majesty Tania,”

continued the malak, not daring to rise from his reverent posture.

Rodrigo stood in silence, wide-eyed.

“Anand and Tannit—so those are their true names…”

he thought, astonished.

Ana, then interrupted.

“A mission, you say?”

She asked.

“You mentioned that before.”

“But not here,”

Tania interrupted too, gesturing toward the inner chamber of her dwelling.

“Come in, please. We’ll talk while we share bread, cheese, and a glass of homemade wine.”

“I hope it’s fine wine from Normandy,”

muttered Epona under her breath, still pouting, her cheeks adorably puffed out.

Rodrigo couldn’t help but find her cute.

“As if anyone in Britannia knew what good wine tastes like, queen of stables,”

Ana teased.

“Go pick your shamrocks and get drunk on beer, Saint Patricia,”

Epona shot back, still pouting.

Rodrigo blinked in disbelief.

“Are all gods this childish—or have I just met the ones stuck in eternal adolescence?”

he wondered.