by Lexy Wolfe
Doom considered. “So, if that is how you make a living, why were you in the games in Dramaden?”
Gareth’s eyes fixed on the road in the silence after the question. Finally, he said in a hushed voice as he pulled the door to the inn open, “It was strongly suggested I attend.”
Doom scowled at Gareth, smoothing his expression when one of the younger serving girls squeaked in fright and dropped her tray with a crash. Contrite, the gromek knelt to help her pick broken plates up while she apologized profusely and thanked him.
He stared after her for a moment before getting back to his feet. “I don’t know if I will ever get used to people worrying they might upset me instead of fearing me. I know I’m ugly as hell.” Before Gareth could say anything, he fixed his yellow eyes on the bard. “And what do you mean? ‘It was strongly suggested?’ What the hells is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that when I prayed to my gods for guidance for where I should go next, I got a response.”
Doom arched a brow. “Isn’t it unusual for gods to talk to…well. Anyone?”
“Mm hm. For most people. I’m…not exactly most.” Gareth glanced around, keeping his voice low. “Most of the time, the responses I receive are little more than strong feelings. This was decidedly more direct. My patron goddess informed me I was to attend the games. No more than that. That was where I met you and Tiwaz.”
Doom’s jaw muscle jumped before he finally spoke. “So you believe these gods of yours wanted you to find us? The same dragon gods we met in Dragons Gate?” The gromek followed Gareth as the man headed further inside, away from most of the others present, taking a seat at one of the corner tables in the darker area of the huge main room.
“Yes, but I did not know at the time. Even with those they speak with more frequently, they prefer to be oblique if they speak to mortals at all and trust what needs to happen will once they nudge things in the right direction.” Gareth sighed, his gaze lowered. “They have been watching you. They always watch those that pique their interest for one reason or another.” He looked up. “What do you think about them, Doom? We never got the chance to speak more after the attack in Crossroads.”
The gromek opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. He looked away, clenching his fists. “I don’t know. Not anymore. When we were young, I prayed to any god I heard about to protect Ti, but none answered. I hated them all for the longest time. What god would allow people like Alimar to live and let people…children…suffer as we had? Let her suffer so much?”
Both went silent as the serving girl approached and Gareth ordered ale for them both, sending her away again. He searched Doom’s face. “You do not feel the same anymore?”
“I don’t know what I feel except confused,” Doom allowed. “I am still angry about the past, but…” He took out his two dragon coins, laying them lightly on the table. “When I first found these, I suspected they represented gods because strange things had happened and odd people were around when I got them. After we reached Dragons Gate, I had no doubt. I was torn between anger for the past and gratitude for the help they had given.”
The gromek fell silent for a moment, studying the bard. “They didn’t tell you, did they?” Gareth frowned in confusion at the question. “Do you realize that Alimar had put glyphs on Tiwaz? Not on her shackles. On her. They moved inside the skin around her wrists like living things.”
“What?!” Gareth sat up sharply, eyes going wide. “I don’t even work magic and I know that’s forbidden. Even the most malevolent sects do not abide disobedience of that rule. The damage it can cause is indescribable.” His eyes darkened. “And your former master did this to her?”
The gromek nodded, his expression grim. “He has always considered himself beyond the reach of anyone’s rules. And he pretty much is. Ti never knew she was a shape-shifter because she had lost her memory during her abduction. The glyphs repressed both that ability and blinded divine eyes from her existence. What happened in Crossroads…she was just learning to control the change. Between being upset and the phase of the moon, her control slipped. If she’d all those years we were slaves to practice control, she never would have changed in front of anyone.”
He heaved a heavy sigh, covering the coins with his hand casually as a server delivered their drinks. He looked at them when the girl had left. “Tiwaz believed the glyphs could never be removed. Absolute belief that she was forever shackled by Alimar because he told her only gods could remove glyphs once inscribed.” He covered the coins again. “And she doesn’t believe in gods. Actually,” he corrected, “I think it is more she does not believe that they believe in her.
“But when we went to Dragons Gate, we encountered three different dragons.” He fell silent for a time, Gareth waiting with the utmost patience, sympathy darkening his eyes. “One removed the glyphs. I thought maybe it was because dragons are powerful, but…if the dragon that removed the glyphs was a god…” He closed his eyes. “Then Ti owes a debt to a being I am not sure we can trust.”
The bard pulled out the medallion that resembled Doom’s coins, holding it for a time. “What do you feel about them then?” He looked up, expression serious. “Not what you think. What do you feel?”
“What do I feel?” Doom frowned in thought. “Ti was absolutely certain only a god could remove the glyphs. She has never done or believed anything whimsically. Do I feel we met a god? Perhaps more than one? And they had been helping us since we fled Shurakh Arln?” He hesitated then said, “Yes. And that bothers me. A lot.”
Gareth tilted his head, looking curious. “All either Tiwaz or I know of religions is what our trainers told us of them. They demand obedience and servitude to them in the name of their gods, they see people as dirt or worse. Simple questioning warrants damnation and punishment. Having an opinion not theirs warrants worse. The way it had been described is just how Alimar treated all beneath him.” He held up his wrist, pushing his sleeve back to show the scars. “Never again.”
“Oh, dear gods, no wonder…” Gareth whispered, looking away from the physical reminder of their decade of captivity. “Look, I won’t lie to you. You and Tiwaz both deserve better than lies and platitudes. There are some temples whose priests abuse their positions and their gods do nothing. Or can do nothing. The war that broke the world devastated the gods and their realm as much as ours was damaged. Some became corrupted. And then there is the nature of gods that most don’t comprehend.”
He took a long draw from his mug, setting it down. “The Temple of the Dragonway is not like most temples. Most gods take care of only those they had evolved from. Human gods look after humans, dwarven gods look after dwarves, and so forth. But the dragon gods do not serve only dragons, but all who adhere to their philosophies. The gods sometimes need our help as much as we need theirs sometimes.”
Doom grunted. “Seems odd. Beings so powerful but they still need the help of those who are so weak.”
Gareth chuckled. “Ah, my friend, there is so much about the world you do not yet understand.” Doom glowered at him. “I can tell you if you want to learn…?” He could not help but outright laugh at the exasperated expression on the gromek’s face. “Sorry. I am just glad to find someone who wants to learn more than what they already know. Too many are content knowing what they believe pertains to themselves alone, believing nothing beyond that sphere would ever impact them.”
“I want nothing more than to learn. Anything and everything that I can. Alimar prohibited me from learning more than absolutely necessary for the purposes he used me for. My trainer risked a great deal to teach me what he could. I thought I knew a lot. Tiwaz thinks I know everything because he allowed her less education and her trainer had little reason or chance to do so.” He looked in the general direction of the wolflen settlement. “Once we were free, I realized how little I really knew and how dangerous ignorance is. And honestly, it scares me.”
Amusement fading into a more serious expression, Gareth said in a low voice, “
That is why I am a bard. Ignorance terrifies me.” He held his hand out towards the gromek. “I will do what I can to help you stave off the specter of ignorance, if you wish?” Doom considered the man and accepted the handshake, his gloved hand nearly swallowing the bard’s.
GARETH STOPPED TO glance back, bemused at the strange sight. Once more harnessed like a horse, Doom pulled the upside down dragon skull while Tiwaz and Tracker pushed from behind. He shook his head and walked back to the lagging trio. “Are you three all right?”
“I’m fine. Just a little winded,” Doom answered. He lowered his hood to look at the snow-covered road ahead. “I wish we’d known the road was mostly uphill. Wasn’t this bad getting back to Bralden with the skull, a colossal stag, and the man-bear.”
“We did have to stop partway,” Tiwaz pointed out, a surly edge to her voice. She looked away as all three males looked at her. She sighed. “I just want to get this done and get home before sunset. I do not like temples. I don’t trust them. I don’t even want to be here.” She calmed, leaning against Tracker as he put his arm around her and Doom patted her hand.
“It isn’t much farther,” Gareth promised. He looked forward. “I admit, I have never been to this particular temple. I am curious to see the state of this one. Most are rather…destitute.”
Tracker bared his teeth briefly. “Some wolflen choose leaving tribe and go there. First time Tracker going see.”
“More should come see,” a growling voice stated from behind a snow-laden bush. A slender wolflen female with the purest white fur and clear blue eyes straightened from behind a thick bush, holding up her hands when all four drew weapons. The males relaxed first, but Tiwaz remained positioned between Doom and the unknown female, her expression foreboding.
“Ti, relax,” Doom soothed, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. “She wears a medallion like Gareth. She’s from the temple we’re going to.”
“I don’t care if she is one of their gods!” She shook off the gromek’s hand, eyes never leaving the white wolflen. “What sort of temple prepares ambushes?”
“One that has been attacked by outsiders before,” the female wolflen replied in accented but proper common tongue, her posture calm and confident, eyes never leaving Tiwaz. “I am Nama, First Priestess of Sulnar the Emerald-Eyed. She sent me a dream that I should guard the path. I have done so faithfully for seven days.” She looked at the skull, lowering her eyes and touching her brow with one hand in a gesture of respect. “I am humbly honored that she sent me.”
Tracker’s ears flattened back, his yellow eyes narrowing. “Huntress use tribal name, not pack name?”
She turned her attention to the other wolflen, her demeanor remaining unruffled. “The temple is my tribe. All who come without the intent to do harm are part of the temple’s tribe, so we use our...” She tilted her head, clasping the medallion bearing an emerald-eyed dragon, studying Tiwaz’s dark expression. “But if it pleases you more, my pack name is Aurora.”
She waited, watching the gladiator. “You need not protect your pack so fiercely, Warrior. If we sought to bring harm to you, we would have already.” She looked upwards, barking sharply. Several figures emerged from concealment in the higher branches, people of many races, all bearing crossbows. “Please, follow me. Father Bura’an will be most pleased to meet you.”
“Tiwaz, come on,” Doom soothed. “I need your help moving this thing. I do have limits to my endurance.” After several moments, Tiwaz relented and put her sword away. Gareth moved to her other side to lend his assistance now that Aurora was there to guide Doom. Neither he nor Tracker spoke to the sullen woman.
Grey, stone walls reached for the sky as they crested the hill and a horn sounded. The great double doors swung open majestically before the small group. Aurora stopped at the threshold, holding a hand up to stop them. As several men and women dressed in elegant robes approached, Tiwaz, Tracker and Gareth joined Doom. Tracker growled when Aurora offered a submissive gesture of respect to the older, most ornately garbed human male.
With a lofty demeanor, the man opened his mouth to speak when Tiwaz announced, “You’re the drunk.” The blunt statement caused a stir among the temple folk, ranging from shock to indignation to sheepish embarrassment.
Doom coughed into his hand in a failed attempt not to laugh openly. Tracker’s body language belied his amusement. Gareth could only slap his forehead in an exasperated facepalm. For her part, Tiwaz crossed her arms, defiance in every aspect of her demeanor.
A young woman stepped forward, frowning. “How dare you speak to High Priest Bura’an with such disrespect and insolence? You should be—!”
“Silence, Lora. They are guests.” The man colored a little, clearing his throat as he gave Tiwaz his attention. “I beg your pardon? What do you mean—?”
“It was when Kerk took me to the Wolf’s Den while Doom was out hunting before I went to the wolflen to learn hunting from them. You were snoring at one of the tables. Kerk and the innkeeper were talking about you.” She spoke without reservation, ignoring the deepening color of the man’s face and the fidgeting of the temple folk. “He said you were usually well into your cups by highsun.” She looked at the pale disk of the sun through the overcast sky. “I guess it is good we got here early.”
“Ah. Yes. Well.” Clearing his throat again, he looked behind them. “You three are the mixed hunter pack from the Bralden tribe’s winter games. Tales of you had reached us, but not of this.” He looked to the skull with a covetous expression. “You did not kill the dragon to get this skull, did you?”
Doom put a hand on Tiwaz’s shoulder before she opened her mouth to respond to the perceived insult. She humphed and crossed her arms, letting him answer. “We did not kill it, no. We found the skull just like this.” He looked to Tracker and Gareth, both nodding to Doom’s silent question. Tiwaz glowered sullenly. “We brought it in hopes you would be able to…take care of it.”
“I have seen enough desecration of the dead,” Tiwaz stated in sharp tones. “You better not dishonor the soul of this dragon.”
“Lora!” Bura’an stated sharply before the woman took umbrage at Tiwaz’s insinuations. “We should show gratitude they seek to save this dragon’s soul from desecration.” The woman glared at the gladiator, but obediently remained silent. The high priest snapped his fingers.
Six men and women in matching robes and carrying long, ornate staves walked over to the skull. Once Doom’s harness was removed, they held their staves over it. Very slowly, the skull began floating and moved with the six as they walked through the gate into the courtyard swept of snow.
“Honor us by witnessing what you have brought to our temple,” Bura’an invited.
Tiwaz’s frown deepened as she took a step back instead of forward. Doom put his arm around her. “Please. We can make sure they do not dishonor the dragon’s soul if we are present.” She muttered something uncharitable under her breath, giving in to Doom’s request.
Bura’an waited until they reached him before walking with the visitors, leading them to the massive central building that dominated the complex. “I will admit. You are correct, young warrior. I often find myself at the tavern in Bralden, trying and failing to mute the pain in my heart with alcohol.”
“What pain, Father?” Gareth asked gently.
The old man smiled sadly. “The pain shared by all who take the mantle of high priest of a Dragonway temple. Once, our faith was the greatest of all that existed. No one was excluded because of their race or gender or vocation. All were welcomed beneath the protective wings of the great ones. Even the followers or leaders of other faiths were welcomed within the hallowed halls of our temples. They were places where warring factions could meet in peace, where scholars could come to share knowledge, where warriors could come to train with the best warriors in the lands and artisans could hone their crafts. But then something terrible happened.”
Doom looked at the elegant archway emblazoned with stylized dragons reminis
cent of the trio they had met at Dragons Gate. “What happened?”
Bura’an’s expression turned miserable. “I do not know. The high priest of each temple had all been tied to the high priest of all temples. Each temple’s high priest holds the memories of the priests before him or her.” He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “I only know that something broke. And I…we lost the heart of the temple, and contact with the other temples. It was all my predecessors could do to hold this temple together during the war with the high elves and the chaos of the aftermath.” He exhaled deeply. “The pain is unbearable, as if—”
“A hole had been ripped in your soul,” Tiwaz said in a low voice, eyes fixed on a point on the ground. Ignoring the others’ eyes suddenly resting on her, she met the startled high priest’s eyes. “I understand pain like that.”
His expression turned sympathetic but he did not speak on it. The group entered the massive chamber of the main building, the room large enough to admit a full-grown dragon. Towards the front, a massive mirror covered the wall, a semi-circular ramp encircling three altars behind empty odd formations surrounding a pool so deep the water was black. The six moving the skull were settling it into place onto the odd structure in front of the center altar.
Tracker frowned, looking at the white wolflen female beside him. “Worship skulls?”
Aurora shook her head. “The skull is considered a means to focus our prayers to the gods, and for the gods to reach us easier. They serve as a bridge between our world and theirs. If the dragon had been slain with malice, it would have been tainted with darkness. Bringing it with the intent to honor its spirit purified its death by washing away any malice on its soul.”
