“Alive. Henry hasn’t eaten or drank since the night before,” Sade said with a yawn. She fought back against the exhaustion that threatened to overtake her.
“Once this is done, we must start training them immediately,” Corin said after a long pause.
“But they will need time to adjust!”
“Sade, do you know what is coming for us?” Corin asked.
Sade shook her head.
Corin let go of her arm and untied a scroll from his belt, the kind used for communication via carrier pigeon. “The High Vestral has activated every single Vestral in the area, and I do not know when they will be here.”
“Can’t you use your divine magic to find them?”
Corin shook his head. “No, not unless I want the Goddess of Fates to raise the alarm in the divine realm.”
“But what about the Goddess of Spring?” Sade asked. They both looked at Henry, who glanced up at them, his expression soured. It softened when he returned to watching Devin.
“The Goddess of Spring has agreed to remain silent as long as I don’t kill him,” Corin spat. “Did you know she is the youngest Goddess in the pantheon? She gets too attached to all of her Vestrals and is constantly asking the God of Death to give them places of honor in the afterlife. At least that is how she was back when I was still in the divine realm.”
“I’m afraid I spent little time studying the other Gods after I was attuned.” Sade shuddered. A long repressed memory of her being led to an empty altar rose in her mind. She had watched the other newly attuned gather around their glowing God or Goddesses altars. Their mocking laughter still rang in her ears, even after all this time. Ever since then she had no interest in learning about the other Gods, their followers had never been kind to her.
“Your sacrifice did not go unnoticed, my child,” Corin said. Sade couldn’t stop herself from grimacing.
“What?”
“You look no older than I do,” Sade said and Corin stroked the short beard that had grown over the last few days.
“Would you like me to change into an old man?” He asked his magic swirled around him, Sade saw a brief glimpse of an ancient man with hollow cheekbones and a long wispy beard.
“No, I was just making the observation,” Sade blurted out and Corin dropped the illusion.
“Good, because I really do not want to look as old as I truly am.”
BY THE TIME THE DAWN of the fifth day rose, they had lost forty more people, bringing their total down to a mere thirty-five. Despite the loss, it didn’t stop the group of survivors from celebrating.
Sade watched as the group lifted a beaming Devin onto their shoulders. Shouts of joy and relief swept through the field. Each one of them had a rune for the God of Justice hanging around a chain on their necks. Corin’s magic swept around them, filling their runes till they glowed bright. Once that was done, he lowered the invisible barrier and released them from the circle.
Sade stood with him on the platform, Attrius and Leida joined them. They watched the curious townsfolk who came out to see who had survived the ordeal. She heard Jerrick shout for Devin and the crowd set him down. Esmelda ran towards him and pulled him tight into her embrace. She was quickly joined by her husband and Herjack.
“Can you do magic now?” The boy asked. Devin shrugged. Sade noted he was pale, but a quick brush of her magic confirmed he would not turn into a pile of ash anytime soon.
“I dunno,” Devin said, “Vestral Henry says I have to train first.”
Esmelda looked up at Sade.
“Thank you for keeping him safe.”
“That was all Henry,” Sade said. She wondered how he did it as she looked for him in the crowd, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Good people,” Corin shouted, using a rune of sound to increase the volume of his voice. The crowd stilled and turned to him with shining eyes. “You have survived an ordeal few ever dare to dream about!”
The crowd erupted in applause and a few shouts. Corin held up his hands, and the crowd soon quieted.
“While the most harrowing of trials is now over, I fear the path before us is long. For too long this kingdom has been placed under the stranglehold of those who wish nothing but more power for themselves! On this very day, dark forces are marching to tear us down and send us all into the halls of the dead, but you have been chosen to become the light that will cast back the darkness!”
Magic flowed out into the crowd, sending swirling sparks of orange and silver into the air. Sade smiled as the magic seeped into her weary bones and reinvigorated her.
The moment was lost as a scream pierced the air. Sade looked on in horror as the God of Justice’s magic flowed off Devin like a waterfall. She jumped off the platform and knelt in front of the boy who was shaking like a leaf. She pulled out a rune of shielding to protect him from the God of Justice’s magic. It was then that she noticed the slight green glow moving across the boy’s skin.
“What’s happening?” Esmelda cried, and pulled Devin close to her. Sade tried to get her release him, but she could not break her hold.
“He cannot accept the God of Justice’s magic,” Sade said slowly.
“Why? Did I do something wrong?” Devin asked, his eyes filled with tears.
“No, it looks like you were attuned to the Goddess of Spring instead,” she smiled and patted him on the head. Devin’s face fell.
“A Goddess? I don’t want no stinking Goddess!” the boy shouted and ran into the forest. His parents and brother hurried after him.
“How is this possible?” Sade asked when she returned to Corin’s side.
“I suspect Henry made a deal with her,” Corin said with a shrug; he looked more amused than angry. Sade thought he was going to rage and tell her to kill him, but she would not pretend to understand the mind of a God.
“Do you want me to kill him?” Leida asked.
“No, we will need him in the coming battle,” Corin said. He clapped his hands. “Come now! Let us get started on teaching them magic!”
Sade followed him down the platform. If Henry kept this up, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep him alive. Protected by a Goddess or not, even a God had his limits. She kicked a stone and she turned her thoughts to training the small group of new Initiates. They would not be considered Vestrals, by Sade at least, until they finished their magic training. Normally such training took at least a year, but Sade didn’t have that time. She could only pray that the God of Justice would be strong enough to protect them if things soured.
19
A Stone of Secrets
EMIRA WOKE FROM HER slumber with a gasp, clutching her blanket she steadied her mind. She’d been dreaming that she was drowning. A few more deep breaths calmed her heartbeat. She sat up; her room was dark save for the moonlight streaming in from her window. The hearth had a few embers amongst the burnt wood, but their light was not enough to combat the dark.
She did not want to wake any of her maids; it was far too late at night to be barking orders.
Emira slipped out of bed, the floor was colder than the sea at winter. She hurried over to the hearth and grabbed a few pieces of kindling from a box of wood. The cold air seeped into her bones, causing her to drop the flint and steel. It took a few strikes, but she eventually caught a spark onto the straw. Soon, she had a fire roaring in the hearth.
Gods above please do not let me catch the Shivering Fever. Emira rubbed her hands together. She only had five days left till her Coronation. In two days, she would be placed into confinement, and on the dawn of the third day she would be crowned.
“You won’t make it,” a voice whispered from the shadows.
Gods, not again. Every night since the Marshmires death, she’d been plagued by dark shadows and voices. Every time they spoke their words grew harsher and harsher. Emira wanted to run, but she had nowhere to go.
She shivered and drew her knees up to her chest. She kept her gaze on the fire. Though she could feel the heat, it did nothing to c
ombat the chill within her.
“Come now, child, the God of Death calls to you,” another voice said.
Emira shook her head and rested her forehead on her knees, trying to keep herself from screaming. The cold became unbearable, and it felt like a thousand frozen needles were piercing her skin. She lifted her head and, to her horror, saw a dark shadow in the shape of a hand holding onto her arm.
“Get away from me!” Emira scrambled to her feet. The shadow figure hovered over her. She reached for a candlestick on the table but found none.
“Gods damn it, Lady Ethelbright,” Emira muttered under her breath. The shadow figure hovered in front of the hearth. “What do you want?!”
The wraith didn’t answer; instead, it seemed to melt into the stone floor and disappear. Emira poured herself a goblet of water, it slipped from her fingers when she saw the bodies of the Marshmires lying in front of her.
“This is your fault. You murdered them,” a voice hissed from the darkness.
“No, that wasn’t me! I tried for peace and the High Vestral stole it from me!” Emira pleaded. The bodies dissolved into ash. Four shadow figures rose from the bodies to hover above them. They moved closer to her, and the air around her became so cold she could see her breath in the firelight. More shadows began to form around her, she gathered her strength and ran into the drawing room.
A fire still burned in the hearth and Emira flopped into a chair next to it. Her skin tingled and a sharp pain swept over her. She was colder than she thought, if she had stayed any long in the bedchamber, she would have frozen to death.
“Emira.”
There was no one in this room aside from her. She gripped the sides of the chair, her knuckles turned white.
“Go away!”
“Emira.”
This voice was different from the others. It was a voice she thought she would never hear again in this life. A man with short brown hair and hazel eyes appeared in front of the large arched window. His light blue tunic was torn and had blood splattered on it. He lifted his right hand and on his pinky finger was his copper ring.
“Thomas,” Emira said. Her hands flew to her chest, where Thomas’s ring was safely nestled under her shift.
“Hello my love.”
Emira brushed back tears from her eyes and she rushed over to him. She reached out to touch him, but her hands went straight through him. His form rippled like a pool of water before it steadied itself.
“Why now? You’ve never visited me before.”
The soft look in his eyes hardened.
“You should have come with me Emira; my death is your fault,” he said. “You should have been there to help me survive the storm! But like everything else, you were too caught up in your own world.”
“I couldn’t join you that day! My father needed help, and you knew that!” Emira backed away, stopping only when she bumped into a chair.
“No, you left me alone to die in the cold, dark sea, just like you let the Marshmires die choking at your feast of peace! Even the children were not spared! How could you? How could you be so blind?”
“That was not me! I did nothing to them!” Emira reached behind her and gripped the top of the chair. Anger warmed her icy veins. “Leave me alone wraith! You disrespect the memory of a good man with your lies!”
“Memories? You hardly think of me, you are too busy playing Queen.”
“More lies, I carry your ring with me to keep your memory alive.”
“Lies? They aren’t lies, it is the truth. You are nothing more than a mere fisherwoman, you will never be able to rule this country properly.”
Lord and Lady Marshmire appeared next to Thomas. Both of their children stood in front of them.
“Because of your recklessness, more blood is going to be spilled,” Thomas said and they crept towards her.
“You should abdicate now and save yourself,” Lady Marshmire said reaching her hands out toward her.
Emira grabbed the chair firmly and swept it in front of her. In a flash, the wood turned colder than ice. It slipped from Emira’s fingers and smashed through the window.
“Go away!” Emira screamed, shards of glass pierced her skin. The apparitions in front of her evaporated when a door flew open.
Lady Ethelbright and Lady Janel rushed into the room along with a couple maids. Emira paid little attention to their gasps while she pulled a small shard of glass from her arm. Thankfully, none of the bigger pieces had hit her.
“Your Majesty! What happened?” Lady Janel cried. She rushed over and pressed a handkerchief to Emira’s wound.
“Ghosts,” Emira said. She did not want to meet their gazes. “I need a Vestral for the God of Death to perform a Rite of Dispelment.”
“Your Majesty, you might recall we had him do one last night,” Lady Ethelbright said slowly, her voice trembled with worry.
“I don’t care if he just did it, have him do it again in the morning!” She shoved away Lady Janel and stormed back into her bedchambers.
“I will call for the physician,” Lady Ethelbright said.
“No, do not call for the physician,” Emira said through gritted teeth while a maid removed shards of glass from her skin.
“Your Majesty, you are injured!”
“That was an order, Lady Ethelbright,” Emira said. Once she was free of the glass, she returned to her bed. A maid grabbed a small bag that held warming stones from under the covers and placed them in the fire. Once the stones were warm, she carefully placed them back into the bag.
She placed it back under the covers, and Emira’s shoulders relaxed. The warmth soothed her frazzled mind.
“Your Majesty, I can have the physician bring a sleeping potion,” Lady Ethelbright said, twisting a handkerchief in her hands.
Emira ignored her and motioned to a maid. “Bring me a few candles and make sure they are ones that will last till dawn.”
It didn’t take long for the maids to bring in a large candelabra, with a dozen candles sticking out of it.
“Everyone, out. I will try to get back to sleep,” Emira said. They all turned to look at her.
“B-but,” Lady Janel stammered.
Lady Ethelbright placed her hands on her hips. “Your Majesty, you are not well.”
“I am fine. I merely had a nightmare. I fear the stress of the coronation is sending me into a bit of a panic,” Emira said, doing her best impression of the High Vestral’s icy voice. “Leave now.”
Lady Ethelbright stared at her, and Emira felt a small rush of calming magic sweep over her. Emira gave a slight nod of her head in thanks.
“Come we should let Her Majesty rest,” Lady Janel tugged Lady Ethelbright’s sleeve and ushered her out with the maids.
The door shut with a solid thump and Emira rested her head on the pillow to stare up at the dull canopy.
Why was this happening to her? Was she being too defiant of the High Vestral and the Spirit of the Realm? Was the death of the Marshmires truly her fault?
“I suppose I should make an offering to the Gods,” she muttered to herself and tugged the covers off. The bag of warming stones fell to the ground with a loud thump. She quickly hopped off the bed and grabbed the bag. It was heavier than she thought and when she threw the bag back onto her bed, it tore in half. One of the stones landed on her right foot.
“Gods damn it!”
She inspected her foot, an ugly bruise had started to form. The stone hadn’t been in contact with her skin long enough to cause any burns.
She wrapped part of the fabric around her hands and used it to pile the stones up. One of the stones sparkled, like it had an inner light. Almost like magic was inside of it. She ran over to the hearth and grabbed a poker used to stoke a fire.
Using the metal, she tilted the stone over and saw a complicated rune etched into the stone. The words were too intertwined for her to make anything out. They encircled an etching of a skull. The light within it beat in sync with her breathing. The longer she looked at it,
the more the runes began to fade and soon the light was gone.
She carefully wrapped the stone with the remnants of the warming bag. She had no idea what magic was inside of it and didn’t want to turn into a pile of ashes.
She needed help. She could ask Lady Ethelbright about it, but she doubted she knew what it was. And trying to get Lady Janel to leave them alone, would be almost impossible. No, she would need to speak to a Vestral. But who could she trust? Most of them were likely loyal to the High Vestral.
You may come and ask me anything you like, whenever you wish. Svendir’s words rang in her ears. It felt a like a lifetime had passed since she had spoken to the Vestral to the God of Knowledge. He kept mostly to his study and away from the castle.
Yes, he was the only one she could go to with this.
She snatched her cloak from a chair and headed out of her chambers into the hallway where she crept by Lady Ethelbrights and Lady Janel’s chambers. She could hear them arguing about something. She didn’t have time to listen.
The halls were quieter than a tomb, most of the guards were half-awake or slumped over as they slept. This would not do. If she had broken an entire window and the castle hadn’t raised alarm, how hard would it be for an assassin to enter?
She stepped into a courtyard, a small fountain that depicted a man holding a cobweb-covered sword over his head, stood in the center. No water bubbled out of the fountain. She frowned, realizing she wasn’t sure where Svendir’s quarters were. She scratched her head and glanced around at a few doors that led to dark hallways. Judging by the fountain, this area of the castle hadn’t been used much.
Closing her eyes, she twirled, and when she opened them, she was facing a door.
“Here goes nothing,” she said to the fountain and headed into the gloomy hall.
She paused, watching the shadows and looking for wraiths lurking in corners. Once she was sure nothing was going to jump out at her, she continued her quest.
The Spirit of the Realm Page 24
