Crisis of Faith by Benjamin Medrano (z-lib.org)

by Unknown

  Tyria stood there in full armor, her sword in its sheath as she glowed, looking over the people in the room. Her gaze stopped on Aldem, and he swallowed hard, once again wishing he hadn’t agreed to host this meeting. He was completely out of his element here.

  “Thank you for your aid, Aldem Corwight. While I would have preferred to keep the peace myself, my current circumstances make that impossible. Not when my very nature is part of the discussion,” Tyria said, her voice gentle as a flowing brook, and her gaze made Aldem’s pulse race.

  “I… well, you’re welcome, Your… Your Eminence,” Aldem replied, swallowing hard.

  Tyria looked up at the others, and her voice was just as gentle as she continued. “Now then. I am Tyria, the Eminent Flame. I was Medaea until this past year as well, but such is no longer the core of my identity.

  “All of you, save for Aldem, have worshipped me at some point in your lives. I have heard your prayers, even if I have not always been conscious of them, and to some extent I know each of you,” Tyria said, her gaze slowly playing over the crowd, and as it did her smile faded, and she spoke softly. “Unfortunately, what you’ve worshipped and believed, each and every one of you… was incorrect.”

  “What?” Nadis snapped, and Aldem felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach.

  This was not how he’d hoped for the first day to start.

  Nadis couldn’t help her angry exclamation, and she immediately regretted it as the goddess looked at her, and despite every effort she could feel herself almost shrink under Tyria’s gaze. The presence of the goddess shook her faith, hard, and despite everything it felt like she had on those days when she’d been closest to the divine. Even so, Tyria’s claim angered her, and she opened her mouth to speak further, only for the goddess to pull a chair out of thin air and sit as she spoke.

  “I’m not saying that your faith was misplaced, or that you were entirely wrong, Nadis. I’m saying that over the millennia, and especially after the Godsrage destroyed so much, that your church’s beliefs diverged from the tenets of Medaea,” Tyria explained, her calm, reasonable tone soothing much of Nadis’s anger. The goddess looked at Aldem, and the gold-haired dawn elf did not look happy, Nadis noticed. In fact, he looked more like he’d been tossed in a pit of lions, but it didn’t stop the goddess from asking, “Aldem, have you found that the church of Vanir from before the Godsrage is different than what exists now?”

  “Well… yes, I suppose so,” the man admitted reluctantly, glancing back and forth as he did so, then continued. “There are a fair number of things we didn’t know about, like her having once been wed to another deity, and that she used to only be a goddess of fresh water, not of the oceans or seas. There are other things, too, but most of them are relatively subtle on the whole.”

  “Precisely. However, the difference is that she was available to correct the course of any mistaken beliefs, or to explicitly allow them when they diverged,” Tyria said, her smile sad as she shook her head. “I… in my role as Medaea, I was not. My angels would not dare speak for me in such a manner, so the faith was allowed to change without my guidance. It turned into something that, while accurate in some ways, was inaccurate in others. I’m more surprised that no one has looked up the scriptures of mine which are still in Everium’s library. As you didn’t, I took the liberty of having a copy made.”

  The goddess pulled a book out of the air and set it on the table, smiling as she looked at Nadis, adding softly as she continued, “Feel free to check it against the original; I made certain that it was an accurate copy. However, this is for you, Nadis.”

  “I… see,” Nadis said, frowning at the book as she heard Felicia’s ink pen scraping paper as she rapidly tried to catch up with recording notes. Some of Nadis’s frustration had cooled, but she wasn’t sure what to say, and instead nodded to Miriselle, who reached over and picked up the book.

  “If I may, Your Eminence… may I ask what sort of things have changed? Since you obviously know what Medaea’s faith originally was,” Diamond asked, and a tiny amount of Nadis’s tension eased at the worry she saw on the other woman’s face. If Diamond didn’t know either, it… well, it might not help, but at least Nadis wasn’t alone in her discomfort.

  “Certainly. Based on what I’ve heard in prayers, read in tomes, and been told, your faith holds that Medaea was an elven goddess of healing, the sun, and repentance. A goddess of peace, who tried to comfort those who’d lost others, or who’d try to aid others in finding redemption,” Tyria said, glancing at Diamond and smiling ever so slightly as she shook her head. “That is… not entirely inaccurate. I was the goddess of healing and the sun, but repentance? No, that isn’t quite right.”

  “What is right, then?” Elissa asked curiously, causing Nadis’s abused temper to flare.

  “Why do you care?” Nadis asked incredulously, looking at the other priestess skeptically, annoyed despite herself. She was fascinated by Tyria’s claims, yet at the same time somewhat outraged.

  “I may have made many of the decisions that changed her into Tyria, but in the process I had to read about her and understand who she was,” Elissa said, looking back as calmly as could be, and yet there was something about the woman’s eyes that unnerved Nadis. She was too calm, Nadis realized, and it made her shiver slightly. A moment later Elissa continued. “I learned about her, and yet after the changes she was someone different than I expected. If her faith had changed… that may explain why Tyria is who she is now, rather than what she was intended to be.”

  “That seems likely,” Tyria agreed, her smile drawing everyone’s gazes back to her. “I was not a goddess of peace, Nadis. I was originally a warrior-angel who tended to the fallen on the battlefield and sent them on their way to the next life if necessary. I was not one of Death’s servants, but I was… close, in some ways. In Demasa’s court, I was the final arbiter of justice, and when no one could speak for the dead, that role was mine. The sun reveals all truths, purifies the dead that they may rest, and is the pyre upon which evil will burn. I healed those whom I could, I brought light where it was needed… and when necessary, I would take vengeance for those who could not.”

  “You were what?” Nadis asked numbly, ignoring the inhalation of surprise from Miriselle as part of her reeled in shock.

  “I was a goddess of justice and vengeance, not just of the sun and healing,” Tyria said patiently, looking back at Nadis with a level gaze. “What you’ve believed… it might have caused my nature to shift, had I not been captured and changed further. Instead, Elissa and Irethiel attempted to change my core values. Their attempts were… effective, I must say. If they’d chosen a different approach, or known what my nature was, it might have even succeeded more fully. Instead… I believe that a number of nobles in Kelvanath were rather horrified by my actions once I woke.”

  “What happened?” Felicia asked softly, almost startling Nadis out of her silence, and the archpriestess swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts again.

  “Her Eminence woke and examined Kelvanath. In her role as the goddess of slaves, I had expected her to leave things as they were. Instead, she killed the cruelest slave owners in the city, then announced to everyone that if they wished to be the masters of others, they had to be worthy of those who served them,” Elissa said, prompting another wave of shock to ripple through Nadis. The human pursed her lips for a moment, then continued. “I must say, the look of shock on Ulvian’s face was priceless. He asked me what she was doing, which I obviously couldn’t answer. However… the nature of who you were before explains it, Your Eminence. If you often avenged those who died unjustly, it makes sense that you’d do the same for those who’d been abused in your new role.”

  “Precisely. Now, then, I believe it’s time to focus on something else,” Tyria said, her expression darkening as she looked at everyone, then continued. “Each of your faiths was incorrect in many ways, and that means some adaptations are necessary. I refuse to be a goddess of slavery, but likewise, I’m
not a goddess of peace. If I need to become Medaea again, or if I must take another new name, so be it, but for now… you must discuss the situation and attempt to come to terms with a faith which each church can accept.”

  “Yes, Your Eminence,” Elissa said promptly, and the two priests by her side murmured their own agreements.

  Nadis noticed that Diamond and Ruby had been silent, and neither of them looked too surprised, though they did look concerned. Nadis took a breath and looked at her companions, considering as she met their worried gazes. If they’d been the type to collapse into hysterics, she wouldn’t have brought them to begin with, but they obviously weren’t taking the goddess’s revelations well.

  A part of Nadis still wanted to hold out hope that all of this was a lie, that Tyria wasn’t Medaea, and that the explanations she’d given weren’t true. However, looking at the book in Miriselle’s hands, along with the strange sense of… of resonance she felt when in Tyria’s presence, she couldn’t hold out much hope for that. Instead, she changed her approach slightly, taking a deep breath, then let it out.

  “I… would like some time to think on your words,” Nadis said, looking at the goddess as her pulse quickened from anxiety. “What you’ve said is an immense shock, and many people among the church would have difficulties accepting it. I have difficulties accepting it. May we retire for the morning, at the least, so that I and my companions can look at this book and compare it to the one in the library?”

  Tyria didn’t immediately answer, instead looking at Diamond and Elissa. The two looked at each other, then Diamond shrugged and sat back, speaking calmly. “I’m fine with a delay, as I live here. The two of you are the ones who might wish to move more quickly, so I will leave it to you.”

  “In which case I’m happy to allow a delay. My church is likely to adapt much more easily, since it isn’t well-established, so if the information in the book helps us to come to an accord more easily, I’m happy to let you examine it,” Elissa said, looking back at Nadis with a slight smile.

  “If that’s the case, I’ll happily adjourn our meeting for the day,” Aldem said, more than a hint of relief in his smile as he stood.

  “Thank you,” Nadis said, and looked at her companions, as well as her knights, adding, “I believe we have an appointment in the library.”

  They nodded in agreement, and Nadis quickly moved toward the door, leaving behind the discomforting sight of Tyria.

  Chapter 10

  “That’s… unexpected,” Bane murmured, pulling the spyglass away from his eye and frowning thoughtfully. He was in a tower a fair distance from the building where the churches of Medaea and Tyria were meeting, and he hadn’t really expected to see anything for hours. In fact, he’d almost missed it when someone did leave.

  The sight of the archpriestess of Medaea leaving the building hadn’t surprised him; instead it was the pensive look on her face, and that of her companions, that was confusing. If she’d left in a rage he’d have understood, but instead the meeting with the other church had lasted barely an hour at most.

  “Well, nothing to be done about that,” Bane said, shrugging and smiling to himself. “At least it means I can head back early.”

  Putting away his spyglass, Bane turned to descend from the tower. He really appreciated how many empty buildings there were in Beacon, though that was slowly changing. It gave plenty of potential hideouts for now, though.

  Diane paused and smiled, calling out gently. “Hello, Lily!”

  “Huh, what?” Lily asked in confusion as she spun around. The blonde dawn elf had a scattering of freckles across her face, and was paler than most dawn elves were, Diane noticed. It was probably due to how much time she’d spent indoors, when the former queen thought about it, and her smile grew as the young elf exclaimed. “Your Majesty! And His Grace! My apologies, I didn’t realize you were there!”

  Lily bowed deeply, one hand holding her broad brimmed hat on her head, while the other held the trowel she’d been using. The young woman had a simple outfit on, one suited for the gardens, and behind her was a tree resting in a hole, its roots halfway buried. With Lily distracted, a lion-sized panther cautiously poked its nose into the hole and sniffed curiously.

  “You really don’t have to call us that, you know,” Torkal said, smiling warmly as he exchanged looks of amusement with Diane. That was because they’d told Lily that at least six times that the former monarch could think of, and Lily refused to act like they were normal people. Personally, Diane found it comforting with how honest Lily could be. Besides, not many other people would be willing to tell off a demon lord in person, like Lily had Wenris.

  “Be that as it may, it isn’t right to disrespect you,” Lily replied, still bowing.

  “It isn’t disrespect, not when we tell you that don’t need to. Rise, please,” Diane told her, suppressing a smile as she shook her head.

  The gardens in Beacon were a marvel to her, as even with the snow the other day the flowers and grass were flourishing as though it was spring. A few magi had told her that it was largely because of Sistina’s domain, but it was also due to the work Lily put in as well. The young woman straightened, a nervous expression on her face, and she fidgeted with the trowel, glancing to the side, where a bush with blazing red flowers radiated warmth.

  “Thank you for understanding, Your Majesty, but I—Kitten! Get your nose out of there now!” Lily exclaimed, and the black-furred feline recoiled just as a paw was about to dig at the dirt, looking supremely guilty as it backed away from the hole. The elf looked outraged, and the panther cowered, looking as guilty as only kittens or children could, in Diane’s opinion. She’d heard that Kitten was still growing, and didn’t really want to know how big the panther would get.

  Diane giggled despite herself, asking, “Does Kitten do things like this often?”

  “No, just when she wants attention,” Lily said, glowering at the cat for a long moment, then brandished the trowel at Kitten as she continued. “I cleaned your litter box this morning, so don’t you dare tear up the garden just to get me to play with you. If you do, I’ll take away your treats, see if I don’t! And I won’t let Ilmas give them to you, either.”

  Kitten’s ears went back, letting out a piteous growl as she closed her eyes, and this time Torkal chuckled.

  “Does she really understand you, then?” Torkal asked, patting Diane’s hand as he focused on Lily and Kitten.

  “For the most part, though she tries to pretend she doesn’t on occasion. Sometimes I think of Kitten as an oversized housecat,” Lily said, the distraction having helped her calm down, Diane noticed. The young woman continued, sounding wryly amused. “Sistina’s domain certainly can lead to intelligent animals when she wants it to, but I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or curse where Kitten is concerned. Though I have to admit, she certainly adds warmth across the foot of the bed!”

  “I believe that,” Diane agreed, eying Kitten as the feline took advantage of the distraction to creep away, and took pity on her as she nodded toward the bush, asking, “Speaking of warmth, may I ask what plant that is, Lily? I saw it when I was here before, but it wasn’t radiating heat at the time.”

  “Oh, these?” Lily exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as she stepped over to the plant, reaching down and stroking a flower, which had a long, trumpet-like funnel around glittering stamen. “This is a fireberry bush, according to Kassandra. I’ve talked with a few visiting druids, and they claim it died out in the Godsrage, but it wasn’t incredibly common before that. They only grow in areas with lots of mana, like nodes or dungeons, as the case may be, and they gather fire mana, which is why they shed heat. I’ve planted them around the gardens to make the winter more bearable, and supposedly sometime around midwinter it’ll fruit. Isana is planning to have a vintner make cordial from the berries, which is supposedly a delicacy. Sistina got a distant look when I asked her about it, but encouraged the idea.”

  “Ah, interesting,” Torkal murmured, t
aking a step closer to the bush, drawing Diane along with in the process. “I hadn’t realized that. It’s fascinating… do you know why it’s alive here, then?”

  “I guess Sistina just sort of… revitalized the seeds. From what she’s indicated, even if a seed is old and dead, as long as it’s reasonably intact she can bring it back,” Lily said, frowning. “I did wonder if it was something like resurrection, but she said it wasn’t. Just that it was a new plant, or something like that.”

  “Hmm… interesting,” Torkal said, and Diane relaxed as the warmth of the fireberry bush enveloped her.

  They stood there for a moment before Diane spoke, her voice soft. “How have things been going here, Lily? You seem pretty happy.”

  “Oh, they’ve been great! Aside from a couple of so-called nobles who think that tumbling the help would be fun,” Lily said, snorting and grinning as she added, “I told Kitten she could play with them, and they thought better of the idea. Word seems to have gotten around, and I don’t get nearly as many requests to show people around the garden anymore.”

  Torkal laughed, a hint of mingled disbelief and mirth in his voice that brought a smile to Diane’s face, even if Lily’s words stunned her. “They did what? I don’t blame you for your reaction, but I can’t believe that anyone would make requests like that, not considering what happened with Kelvanis! Don’t they realize that a lot of the people here would take offense?”

  “Yeah, well… apparently some people decided that since Beacon is newly founded, and a huge portion of the current high-ranking nobles are women, it’s an ideal place to send their second, third, and fourth sons,” Lily said, her smile fading slightly, a finger twirling a lock of hair as she glanced to the side, adding, almost as an afterthought, “Daughters, too, but they’re not as common. A couple have been after the queen or her spouses, which has made things a little awkward lately. It eats a lot of their time to deal with, especially since I’ve heard something about not wanting to ruin foreign relations, or something along those lines.”