“Your Royal Highness, I am sorry to report that your father has passed away,” the messenger said and handed Felix a letter.
Felix cleared his throat as he felt a pang of... relief. Now the kingdom would no longer be plagued by a man who preferred his wine over his people. He passed the letter to Lord Rover. It was nothing more than an official record of his father’s death.
“And who has the Spirit chosen?”
Felix felt his heart beat wildly in his chest.
“The Spirit has chosen...” the messenger trailed off while he read the words on another scroll.
“Out with it man!” Lord Rover shouted. Felix could do nothing more than stare.
“The Spirit has chosen a peasant woman from the town of Griffin’s Bay.”
And with that Felix’s world crashed around him.
“Four years. I have spent four years on this godsforsaken border protecting this kingdom! For what!?” Felix shouted, anger coursing through his veins like a river of fire.
“And your presence is requested for the new queen’s coronation,” the messenger finished meekly, ducking when Felix threw his dagger at him. Lord Rover grabbed him by his arms and another man took his sword from his belt.
“Tell them to go to hell!” he screamed and elbowed Lord Rover in the gut. The older man let out a gasp as Felix stormed over to the messenger and grabbed him by the collar.
“Tell them I will never set foot in that godsforsaken place ever again.”
“Prince Felix, calm down! You knew there was always the possibility the Spirit could choose another,” Lord Rover wheezed.
Felix whirled around. “I know that! But I wasn’t expecting the Spirit to disregard everything I have done! What does a peasant know about ruling?”
“Prince Felix-”
Felix pulled the letter from his belt and stared at it. He had lost his father, his birthright and his home all in one afternoon. A part of him longed to just disappear into the shadows and never return. But he had taken an oath to protect the kingdom and he would never go back on that oath.
“Lord Rover, prepare the men. We are going to pay this Lord Marshmire a visit.”
He was going to show the Spirit why he would have made a better ruler.
3
The God of Justice and Mercy
DESPITE THE HOWLING wind, the temple courtyard was packed with pilgrims lining up to pray to the Gods and the Spirit of the Realm. Most shrines had at least one or two people waiting for them, save for one. Sade glanced around the shrine for the God of Justice and Mercy. She had spent the morning cleaning the dirt that had accumulated during last night’s dust storm.
The statue was immaculate, the gray stone sparkled when a ray of sunlight peaked through a crack in the wooden walls. The stone depicted the God holding a sword in one hand and a scroll in the other. Sade had spent an entire week painstakingly painting over the bright colors on the God’s flowing tunic, transforming them into the black and white colors of mourning.
In spite of all her hard work. Not a soul waited for entry into her God’s shrine.
Sade sat down on a small stool near the stoop, praying someone would come in and pay reverence to the God. The runes etched into the statue remained cold and lifeless; the only light came through the open door and the small cracks in the walls. The other shrines didn’t have this issue, since their respective God or Goddesses’ runes glowed day or night. It was a sign that they were listening to the people’s prayers. However, the God of Justice and Mercy had remained silent for almost a century.
Since there was no sign of the God’s presence, no one came to pray. Sade was left guarding a silent statue. Wondering if she would ever have the chance to talk to the God she had dedicated her life to.
“Good morning Sade, any word from our elusive friend?”
Sade couldn’t stop herself from grimacing when Henry made his way into the shrine. His dark cloak was covered in so much dust it had turned gray. The runes on his cloak glowed a light green as the dust was vaporized by magic. Sade threw her dust rag at him.
“No magic in the presence of the Gods!” she snapped. Henry pulled the dust rag off his head. The dirt muted his normally bright red hair.
“Doesn’t that only apply if the runes are glowing?” Henry asked and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at Sade with confusion and fumbled for a small scroll on his belt. The scroll held all the rules the Vestrals were to follow in the shrines. It was easy for Sade to forget that Henry had recently joined the Vestrals, Sade had joined when she was a child and knew the rules like the back of her hand.
“No blatant use of magic is allowed inside the shrines, except for extraordinary purposes such as war or a divine decree,” Sade said from memory while Henry frowned at a clump of dirt that had dropped from his hair onto his cloak.
“I still think it’s a rather stupid practice,” Henry said.
“Hush do you hear that?” Sade rose from her stool at the sound of pilgrim outside the shrine. A young girl entered, one of the famine-struck judging by her tattered dress, which hadn’t been dyed into the proper mourning colors. The girl frowned at the God of Justice’s statue.
“I’m looking for the Spirit of the Realm’s shrine,” the girl said, her voice strong despite her weak appearance.
“That would be three shrines down and right across from the Well of Guidance,” Henry said before Sade could respond. The girl nodded and left the shrine without another word. Henry frowned and peered at the doorway for a moment before turning to Sade. “Is it just me, or are the people praying to the Spirit of the Realm more?”
“How would I know? I spend my days waiting for a sign from a God that doesn’t wish to be seen and no one prays to.”
Sade slumped back onto her stool and covered her face with her hands. She took a few deep breaths and used her magic to soothe her nerves. Once she was sure she wasn’t going to burn down the shrine, she noticed Henry frowning at the statue.
“Gods above why are you still here?” she asked and rose to her feet. She grabbed a rag and began wiping down the altar. The only offering on it was one she had made earlier.
“Dirna wants us to patch the holes in the walls of the Spirit’s shrine.”
Sade rolled her eyes and tucked her dust rag into her belt. She whirled around and placed her hands on her hips.
“I am the only Vestral in this shrine, I cannot abandon it while there are pilgrims present!”
“Vestral Sade, please keep your voice down.”
A cool voice said behind Henry, who gulped and stepped to the side as Dirna, Vestral to the God of Death, walked into the shrine. The dark gray ribbon, normally a bright gold, that lined her cloak marked her as the head of the temple. The runes of the God of Death, which depicted a lantern, swirled with white and black magic.
Some might think such a display of magic was a sign of devotion to their God and an honor to the late King. To Sade, it was a flagrant use of the power Dirna held as head of the temple. A power she was now in gross violation of by asking Sade to step out of her shrine.
“I cannot go. I don’t have another Vestral or Initiates to watch over the shrine. If someone comes in to pray...”
Dirna walked over to the altar and picked up a coin Sade had offered. It clattered when she dropped it back onto the stone.
“Vestral Sade, that was an order not a request,” Dirna turned to face her. “You took an oath to help those in need. Now I invoke that oath.”
Sade’s skin tingled at her words. Now that Dirna had invoked the oath, it was at Sade’s peril to disobey. The Gods did not look kindly on oath breakers. She could lose an eye, a limb, or even her life if she went against it. There was a chance the Gods would be merciful, but this was not the oath to test their goodwill.
“I’ll help!” Henry shouted and gave Dirna sheepish grin when she narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not the Vestral in charge of the shrine today. We won’t get busy until late winter starts...”
“I
don’t care if you help or not, I need all the holes patched by this afternoon. The Court Vestrals for Lord Vlastar are coming,” Dirna said then walked out of the shrine.
Sade scowled and snatched a bucket she had used the night before to clean. Water sloshed onto her skirts as she stormed out of the shrine. Henry was right on her heels; fortunately, he had enough sense to keep quiet.
She made her way over to the shrine of the Spirit, a long line of pilgrims stood in front of the door. She turned and walked to the back of the shrine, through the cracks in the walls she could see the statue had a silver glow about it.
She bit her lip trying to keep the tears from flowing. It was a beautiful sight, a sign of life. Unlike her shrine filled with...death.
She grabbed a handful of dirt and tossed it into her bucket. She pulled out a rune of strength and tossed it into the bucket. As she mixed the dirt, she strengthened the mud with magic. Creating a plaster she could use on the walls. She fished out her rune from the mud and cleaned it with the hem of her skirt.
“You don’t use straw or manure?” Henry asked while she began covering up a hole.
Henry set down a bucket and a small bushel of straw next to her. She scrunched her nose when the smell of manure permeated the air.
“No, the magic imbued in the dirt will last a longer,” she said and Henry’s shoulders slumped.
“That’s the last time I listen to Genevieve,” he grumbled. “I’ll be right back.”
Sade returned her attention to the wall in front of her, the magic inside the Shrine wafted over her. Though the Spirit was not a God, the magic was comforting, she could see why people had drifted toward the Spirit’s shrine. Magic could be an unpleasant experience for the unattuned.
“Please intercede on our behalf and get the Goddess of the Harvest to end her grievances with us.” A prayer drifted over the wind; Sade did her best to forget the words. As a Vestral, she had sworn she would not take heart any of the prayers; those were for the Gods alone. She had known quite a few Vestrals request to become unattuned when they became overly attached to their pilgrims’ prayers.
It was a problem she never had.
BY MIDAFTERNOON, THEY had covered all the cracks in the walls. The main courtyard was still filled with people, at this rate the temple could not close until well after sunset.
“Oh, would you look at that, the peacock has arrived,” Henry said. He pointed at three Vestrals huddled together, one of whom was Dirna. The other two had cloaks that were made from the finest black and white silks. Despite Dirna’s runes flashing about, they paled in comparison to the motionless runes on the other two cloaks. One cloak had the four broken marks of the Goddess of Fates, while the other had all twenty-six common runes on the hemline.
They were Vestral Anya, Vestral to the Goddess of Fates and Vestral Hemdrill, Vestral to the Goddess of Runes. Two of Lord Vlastar’s Court Vestrals. Hemdrill was waving his arms at the shrine to the God of Justice with such vigor, Sade was amazed his arms didn’t pop out of their sockets.
Vestral Anya’s gaze locked onto her and Sade felt an icy chill sweep over her. Anya’s eyes glowed with a soft light and the runes on her cloak cast a brownish glow around her. When the light faded from her eyes, her expression became sorrowful and she gave Sade a sad smile before turning to tap Hemdrill’s arm.
Sade’s stomach churned as she stepped closer. The Goddess of Fates had given Anya a glimpse into her future. But why now?
“Vestral Sade, Vestral Henry. May the Gods bless you this day,” Hemdrill said with a little bow, he swept back his long black hair while he straightened. Anya merely stared at them with a solemn expression.
“And you,” Sade said in unison with Henry.
Dirna cleared her throat and gave Henry a pleasant smile. “Vestral Henry, you are dismissed for the day. There is something we wish to discuss with Vestral Sade.”
The unease in Sade grew as Henry nodded and gave them all a curt bow. He patted Sade on the shoulder before he left.
“You’ll be fine.”
For the first time since Henry had come to the temple, she wanted him to stay. An ominous air hung around the three Vestrals while they walked into the shrine of the God of Justice. Sade followed behind them and stood to the side of the door.
“Has the God spoken to you? Given you any signs?” Hemdrill asked while the three of them walked around the statue. The sound of their cloaks brushing across the floor was grating to her ears.
“I...” Sade paused, a part of her screamed to lie and say yes. But that would break her vow to remain true to the God of Justice.
“Answer Vestral Hemdrill,” Dirna snapped.
“I have not,” Sade whispered and bowed her head.
“Gods above, I was hoping at least one shrine in this bloody kingdom had a sign,” Hemdrill sighed and rubbed his forehead. He stared at the statue for a long moment before he turned to Sade with a sorrowful expression. “The Council of High Vestrals have charged each kingdom with searching for signs of the God of Justice and Mercy. You were the last shrine we had to inspect...”
Sade felt her throat close and she leaned against the wall for support.
“We must now stop all worship of the God of Justice and Mercy,” Anya added.
She avoided Anya’s gaze, the Vestral’s face was a torrent of emotions as the Goddess of Fates showed her different futures. Sade wondered how many of them had her being cast out from the shrine.
“The council hasn’t done such a thing since the Goddess of Peace was discovered to be dead!” Dirna exclaimed.
Hemdrill nodded. “I am afraid we have no choice but to declare God of Justice and Mercy to be dead.”
“The council waited for two hundred years before they declared the Goddess of Peace to be dead,” Sade said and folded her arms across her chest. “The God of Justice hasn’t been heard from in only a hundred!”
“You forget there were signs from the Goddess until she went silent,” Dirna said. Her voice had softened, and she was now looking at Sade with pity. Something she had never shown Sade before.
How quaint, she’s putting on a show. Sade would’ve bet her coin purse that Dirna would have gleefully kicked her out of the shrine if the Court Vestrals weren’t here.
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. If the God of Justice was truly dead, why was her magic still working? She reached into her pouch for a small rock inscribed with her God’s rune: two triangles, one pointed down and the other pointed up. It represented the tip of a sword, downwards for justice and upwards for mercy. The rune had been imbued with the God’s magic five hundred years ago. It had been passed down and used for Sade’s attunement ceremony since they could not draw magic from the God himself.
“The magic has not faded,” Sade said and held it up. The rune glowed a soft orange as if it were showing defiance.
“There are still relics imbued with the Goddess of Peace’s magic. It does not mean she is alive,” Hemdrill said. “We know this isn’t an easy thing to be told.”
“You can become attuned to a new God or Goddess of your choosing,” Anya said, her voice was cool and amplified by the divine magic flowing through her. “The Goddess of Fates can sever your ties to the God of Justice.”
Sade gripped the rune in her hand. She had spent most of her life in service to the God of Justice’s silent shrine, drawn by the hope he still lived and answered prayers.
“I will not break my vow.”
Hemdrill’s shoulders sagged and he drew a long breath. Dirna’s eyes widened.
“Sade! Do you know what you are giving up?”
Sade eyed the silent statue and the cracks in the walls. She spent most of her days here, speaking only to the Vestrals when they chose too. Which, aside from Henry, wasn’t often. If she were to be an outcast, it wouldn’t be any different from what she was experiencing now.
“I will not rescind my vows to the God of Justice.”
With an exaggerated sigh Dirna held up a hand.
“Then, by the pow-”
“Why do you choose this path?” Anya snapped; Hemdrill and Dirna both jumped at the sound of her voice. Her eyes were bright with divine magic as she moved toward Sade. “Why do all of you choose this bloody path?”
“I’m not the only one who didn’t denounce the God of Justice?” Sade reached into her pouch for a rune, but they danced around her pouch slipping from her fingers when she caught one. The Goddess of Fates was in control now.
“No, and all of you are fools!” Anya screamed and her head tilted back. Magic flowed out of her and into the shrine, knocking over the altar.
“Stop it!” Sade tried to run over to Anya, but a gust of wind knocked her back. Hemdrill and Dirna grabbed her arms and dragged her out of the shrine.
“What are you doing? She’s going to destroy the shrine!” Sade screamed.
Right as the words left her mouth the shrine collapsed into a pile of dust around Anya, not even the statue was spared.
Sade’s mouth dropped open; she could do nothing but watch the winds blow the dust away. The pilgrims nearby screamed with fright.
“What is happening?!” she heard someone shout.
Sade collapsed onto the ground while Hemdrill and Dirna rushed toward Anya, runes of containment floated in front of them. The rune was meant to close off the connection between a Vestral and their God if the connection became deadly. Sade fought to stand, but her legs kept giving out.
Anya held up a hand and the two Vestrals stilled, frozen in place. She swept past them with a look of disdain. Sade gulped and reached into her rune pouch again, she exhaled with relief when she was able to pull out a rune. Relief became dread when she realized she was holding a fire rune.
“You think you can challenge the Gods themselves?” Anya screamed lost to whatever fate the Goddess was showing her. There was a chance it was not Sade’s.
“I would never challenge the Gods!” Sade replied her voice was almost drowned out by the wind. “I have given my life in service to a God who won’t even talk to me!”
The Spirit of the Realm Page 3
