“Mother, I’m sure you’ve heard about the rising faith in the Hermessi,” Taeral replied. We all nodded at this one. Harper had come back with her accounts of Ramin, a real Hermessi, an elemental spirit of fire that had helped her survive and ultimately kill Shaytan, the daemon king of Neraka. According to her, the Hermessi were likely to be stronger on fae stars, since they were deeply connected to their species, given their elemental abilities. “Well, you know then that there are temples rising in our kingdom dedicated to the fire Hermessi. You also know that the last time the Hermessi were popular among our kind was tens of thousands of years ago, when people still believed in them and worshipped them. We don’t know when, how or why the faith dwindled, but it’s definitely making a comeback now.”
“And Bogdana would know about that,” Nuriya said, following her son’s line of reasoning. “Which means she’d be all for the Hermessi temples.”
“Exactly. Maybe we might find someone who knows where she is in one of these temples,” Taeral replied. “The nearest one is a half-day’s journey away. I could accompany our GASP friends here and assist them in looking for Bogdana. I’m pretty sure she’d be interested in worshipping the Hermessi again. Who knows, we might even bump into her!”
Nuriya thought about it for a while, then gave Sherus a brief sideways glance. He responded with a faint nod, prompting her to shift her gaze back to us and Taeral.
“Yes. Do that. Taeral, I trust you will assist our friends here with everything you can,” Nuriya said. “Whatever they need in order to find out more about Strava, they’ve got it. Whatever we can do to help.”
I felt a knot forming in my throat as my emotions tackled me violently. I had nothing but gratitude toward Nuriya and Sherus. Though they had lost warriors in our mission, they were still entirely devoted to our common goal, our attempt to maintain peace across the In-Between.
I came from a world where allies had once been hard to find. Some, such as the Sluaghs, had even turned against us. I was still adjusting to the idea that there were creatures such as the fae out there, creatures who were willing to fight and shed their own blood by our side. I was simply overwhelmed by these people.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said. “A million times, thank you.”
Nuriya gave me a warm smile. “You’re most welcome, Master Druid. We’ve got our work cut out for us, it seems. The least we can do is help each other out.”
“If the Perfects plan on killing us all off, rest assured that we’ll all fight or go down together,” Sherus replied. “Let’s just focus on defeating them, though. I didn’t bring a son into this world to watch him get killed by a bunch of maniacs who think they’re above everyone else.”
That was a good mindset to have. I admired Sherus for it.
It wasn’t optimism they were carrying themselves with. It was determination. The same kind of fire that had led me to find the Oracles and eventually take the fight to Azazel. If there was one thing I’d learned from my life in Eritopia, it was that one should never mess with a creature who is determined to live.
The same went for millions of us. We all had that fire, that thirst for life.
And, like Sherus and Bijarki had said, damned if I was going to let anyone take that away from us. Sure, we had our work cut out for us, but we’d been through the motions before. While Serena and the rest of our crew focused on further studying Strava and preparing infiltration scenarios, Bijarki, Shayla, Taeral, and I were going to find Bogdana.
All I had to guide me now was hope. The old fae had to know something about Strava, about the Draenir, and about Ta’Zan. I told myself that, over and over, ready to scour the entire fire star until I found Bogdana.
Bijarki
Taeral escorted us outside the palace. Behind us were, of course, the royal guards. Not that Taeral couldn’t defend himself—he was, after all, a powerful hybrid with both fae and jinni abilities. On top of that, there were few in the fae kingdom of the fire star who would’ve wanted to harm him. Most of them were anti-royalist rebels, and they were drastically outnumbered by millions of fae who were loyal to Sherus and Nuriya.
Nevertheless, royal etiquette required that Taeral be accompanied by at least four guards when outside the palace grounds. He didn’t seem happy about that, though. He occasionally glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.
“I take it you don’t like having your own personal guard?” I asked, smirking.
Taeral was still quite young, in his early twenties, given the time-lapse caused by the Daughters’ shroud over Eritopia during Azazel’s reign of terror. When Vita had first come through, the prince had just been born. By the time she came back out, he’d just turned twenty. Despite his young age, he did strike me as quite fierce and determined. I had to admit, I was fascinated.
“I feel like my parents think I still need babysitters,” he muttered.
We took the main road out of the palace and through the city, making our way downhill through the narrow alleyways toward the base. About six miles to the west was one of the Hermessi temples, built a couple of months back. We could see it from a higher altitude, a tiny spot of white surrounded by lush greenery.
“Do you still need babysitters?” Shayla asked, equally amused.
“I doubt it,” Taeral replied. “I can tie my own shoes. Swing a sword. Burn down half the planet. You know, the basics.”
That had been meant as a joke, but we all knew how powerful Taeral could be.
“Maybe make fewer mentions of burning stuff down, and your parents might be more comfortable with letting you out on your own.” Shayla chuckled.
Taeral smiled, his cheeks flushing pink as he realized how his statement, although given in jest, could be misinterpreted or, worse, taken literally. He scratched the back of his neck, then sucked in a breath.
“I see what you mean. Okay, duly noted. Thanks,” he said.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for you getting full independence,” Shayla replied gently. “But your parents are well aware of your extraordinary abilities. I’d guess they just want to make sure you don’t get carried away or something.”
“Well, I’m not a ticking time bomb, you know.” Taeral sighed. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping it together. I know my limits, and I love my kingdom. I would never do anything to hurt it or our people.”
“No one doubts that,” Draven interjected. “This most likely has to do with you being a very special and unique hybrid. No one thought a jinni and a fae could even have offspring, yet here you are. It’s kind of new territory for everybody, at least until they all understand what you can and cannot do.”
“Fair enough,” Taeral conceded. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ve reached my full potential yet.”
A couple of hours passed as we headed for the temple. The closer we got, the more beautiful it looked, proudly rising with its white marble columns and triangular roof on top of a nearby hill. The orchards surrounding it were in full bloom, and the afternoon breeze made their floral crowns tremble, pale pink petals scattering in the wind like snowflakes. The giant orange sun began to set in the west, casting intense shades of red and pink across the clear sky. Everything was bathed in a warm, reddish light, and I found myself breathless, staring at the beauty around me.
I’d always envisioned the fae planets to be more elemental. I’d figured the fire star would be dry and hot, practically a ball of fire, for example. It wasn’t. The temperatures were high, but there was a healthy and superb ecosystem at work here. Trees and flowers grew, lush and colorful. Water flowed in streams and rivers. The lakes and seas were peculiarly warm, but they spanned thousands of miles in all directions. The hills and fields were bountiful, covered in grass, endless acres of crops and orchards, and deep woods near the mountains.
In many ways, the fire star reminded me of Vita, and not just because of her fae origin.
“You said the fae were quite quick to once again adopt the Hermessi faith,” Draven said.
&nbs
p; The temple was now about a hundred yards away, as we’d already begun our climb up the hill. The scent of fruit tree flowers filled my lungs and made me smile. I needed that, even if just for a few moments. I’d been carrying a lot of pain and regret since we’d lost most of our fleet on Strava. I was worried sick about Jax, Hansa, Jovi, and Anjani in particular.
“Yes. After your people came back from Neraka, word spread quickly about the existence of the Hermessi,” Taeral replied. “It prompted our elders to dig through our folklore archives. They brought back the old manuscripts and, less than a month later, everything we knew about the Hermessi—which, by the way, is very little and mostly unverified—was being taught in our schools again, after tens of thousands of years.”
“So, the fae were happy to believe in the Hermessi again,” Shayla murmured.
“I suppose.” Taeral shrugged. “Frankly, I’m not too worked up about it. I mean, if they exist, good for them. If our people believe in them and worship them, it’s their right to do so. I just don’t think they make that much of a difference, in reality. I’m inclined to think that most of their alleged powers were exaggerated in mythology. Otherwise, our faith in them never would’ve faltered in the first place, and certainly not for millennia.”
Shayla nodded. “You make a fair point. However, I’m curious. How long have your people resumed worship?”
“First of all, it’s not all the fae,” Taeral explained. “Maybe a couple dozen in every village, a few hundred in the bigger cities. Not everybody’s sold. Second, it’s been five months, approximately, since the first new Hermessi temple was built. It started with maybe ten fae. Then the faith grew.”
“So you think there will be more worshippers in the future?” Draven asked.
“Probably. They’re harmless, anyway. Peaceful gatherings once a month, usually. The more devout visit the temple every day,” Taeral replied. “They do it mostly because they want to amplify their elemental abilities. Not all fae are born as powerful as my father, as you know.”
I nodded. “I’m aware,” I said. “Vita is quite capable, but her sister, Caia, and Vesta, the young fae they brought back from Neraka, are, by far, some of the most powerful fae I’ve ever come across.”
“That being said, let it be known for the record that Bijarki hasn’t met that many fae in the first place,” Draven said, stifling a chuckle.
“You’re no better,” I retorted, grinning.
Taeral looked at us, then raised his eyebrows at Shayla. “Are they always like this?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Most of the time, yes.”
“Hah. And they call me a kid. Go figure.” He laughed.
“You’re never too old to be a kid at heart,” I replied. “Never lose your sense of humor. Never take yourself too seriously. Always enjoy a good roast. Those are the three secrets to living a long and fulfilling life.”
A few seconds passed in silence, as we reached the broad steps of the Hermessi temple. I looked up, having to crane my neck back in order to see it all. It was an enormous construction, and I was impressed that it had taken the fae less than a month to build it. It was simply exquisite, of monumental proportions.
The afternoon sun cast dramatic orange flares against the sharp corners and smooth walls, creating an intense contrast with the shadows creeping from the inside. The wind howled through the open halls. Somewhere inside, far from where we were, several lights flickered. Once we reached the top of the stairs, I was able to see them better—black iron fire bowls mounted on the ceiling in a straight double line, guiding visitors inside.
“The roast was a personal addition, wasn’t it?” Shayla asked, catching her breath.
I nodded. “It just made more sense to offer life advice in sets of three.”
Taeral chuckled, then motioned for us to follow him inside.
As we went in, darkness settled around us. The walls were quite far away, with tall arched gaps symmetrically carved into them. The light didn’t make it too far, though, as it was broken and blocked by multiple rows of stone columns.
My instincts kicked in, as I heard footsteps ahead. I narrowed my eyes and noticed a figure casually walking toward us. It was a fae, perhaps a cleric, judging by the layers of red-and-yellow silk wrapped around his slender body, and his shaved head. A single, stylized flame had been tattooed into his forehead, and it brought out his bright amber eyes.
“Greetings, travelers,” the fae said, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture. He stilled at the sight of Taeral, instantly recognizing him. He offered a deep bow. “Your Highness. It’s an honor to see you here.”
“Thank you for welcoming us,” Taeral addressed him.
“I am Vikkal, Grand Priest of this Hermessi temple,” the fae cleric replied. “Would you like to come in to see our shrine and, perhaps, enjoy an herbal drink and a good meal?”
“That is most kind of you,” Taeral replied, then looked at us. We all nodded, eager to find out more about the Hermessi faith and how the fae had reintroduced their worship into their lives and society. Frankly, I was dying to know if their belief had amplified their abilities in any way.
Vikkal guided us into the main altar chamber. It was wide and spacious, lined by columns covered in gold leaf. In the middle was the shrine, built on top of a massive, circular white marble table. It was covered in fine red-and-yellow silks, wide bowls loaded with fresh flowers, incense holders, and thousands of candles. They were all carefully displayed around the golden statue of a humanoid figure with arms and legs depicted as undulating flames. On its chest, a ruby had been carved into the same shape as the tattoo on Vikkal’s forehead and mounted into the gold surface.
“Wow… That’s beautiful,” Shayla murmured, staring at the statue.
Several fae clerics came out of nowhere, carrying pitchers of fresh water and fruit bowls, which they placed on a nearby side table. They vanished back into the darkness, quiet and light on their feet, as Vikkal motioned for us to help ourselves to what looked like a veritable tropical feast. My mouth was already watering, so I didn’t wait to be told twice and immediately dug in.
“Thank you, Vikkal,” Draven said as he poured himself a glass of water. Since he only ate meat as part of his Druid diet, he wasn’t exactly enticed by the exotic fruit on display.
“So, what brings you to our temple, Your Highness?” Vikkal asked Taeral. “Perhaps you’d like to worship with us?”
Taeral smiled flatly. “No. Not at all,” he said. “We are here to talk about the Hermessi faith, however, and about the local followers, if you wouldn’t mind answering some questions.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Vikkal replied. “What would you like to know?”
Taeral looked at Shayla, who took the lead. “First, we’d like to know what made you pick up the Hermessi worship after so many years?”
“Milady, many of us thought of the Hermessi as mythological figures,” Vikkal explained. “Our grandparents and great-grandparents had more faith in them, while our society sort of… moved forward and forgot about them. We called it progress, I suppose. Then, word came from Neraka that the Hermessi were still very much sentient and could flourish again. We’d thought them lost after millennia, just rivers and flames, gusts of wind and crumbles of dirt. We didn’t think they were still here. So, some of our elders chose to bring the ancient traditions back.”
“And you built your first new temples,” Shayla concluded.
Vikkal nodded enthusiastically. “This was the third, in fact. We call it the Temple of Hermessi South. There are three more on our planet. We agreed that there should be only one temple for each element. This is dedicated to the fire Hermessi,” he said. “At first, there were only a few of us. I am one of the early believers, so to speak.”
“And now? How many come to worship?” Shayla asked.
“Oh, a couple hundred, in these parts!” Vikkal replied. “I do not know the planet-wide numbers, but our faith is growing. And for good reason, too. Some of the
worshippers have said that they’ve noticed a mild increase in their abilities. Stronger flames, longer burn times… You know, nothing too extreme, but noticeable enough to warrant belief.”
Draven frowned. “Wait, so you’re telling us that this whole faith thing works? That the more you believe in the existence of the Hermessi, the stronger your elemental abilities become?”
“Yes, milord. And, most importantly, with time, the Hermessi’s powers will also increase,” Vikkal said, smiling. “Fire will someday burn brighter. The rivers will flow thicker. The orchards will bear more fruit. The winds will blow stronger.”
“And how do the other fae, the non-believers, see you and your Hermessi worship?” Draven asked.
Vikkal shrugged, resting his hands behind his back. “I suppose they don’t have a problem with us,” he said. “We are peaceful. We do not demand that others believe as well. We simply worship the elements we once thought were our connection to nature, and not standalone entities. Our numbers will grow, of course, but the worship itself does not require anything from us, as believers. There are no prayers or hymns or sacrifices or rituals. Nothing like that. People just come here to meditate in peace and to connect with the Hermessi.”
“Have the Hermessi spoken to anyone yet?” Shayla replied.
Vikkal shook his head. “I’m afraid not. But there is hope. If a Hermessi was willing to reach out to a foreigner like Harper Hellswan, surely they will speak to us soon enough. We have hope.”
I had a feeling that this was all we could gather in terms of intelligence regarding the Hermessi. Without any palpable evidence or personal accounts of others being in touch with these elementals, we were still in murky waters. However, the Hermessi themselves were not the actual purpose of our visit, though I did appreciate learning about fae abilities being boosted through worship. I figured Vita would be interested in this.
“Vikkal, what can you tell us about your worshippers?” Shayla asked.
I understood the tactic behind these questions. We were dealing with locals, specifically with fae—who didn’t make a habit of chatting with strangers, especially when said strangers were looking for one of their own. We had to tread carefully and ask the right questions, easing Vikkal toward the point where we’d bring up Bogdana.
A Citadel of Captives Page 5
