The Bones of the Earth- The Complete Collection

by Scott Hale

  “Many months ago, a terrible thing happened in Geharra.” The Holy Child closed his eyes and, as he replayed what Justine had told him, began again. “As we revealed a few weeks ago, Alexander Blodworth, understudy of the traitor, Samuel Turov, went with a group of priests and soldiers to Geharra. He believed I had been taken there, and with the blessing of our benevolent Mother Abbess Justine, went to rescue me. But when Alexander Blodworth arrived, he found the entire city had been murdered by Eldrus’ soldiers.”

  A hush fell over the room. People began to lean so far forward they slipped off their benches. Small whispers erupted like fires amongst the congregation, but the piercing eyes of Justine quickly snuffed them out.

  “Our relationship with Geharra is a strained one, but ten thousand deaths transcend all past and present transgressions. Let us pray that, in their final moments, they accepted our lord’s love.”

  In glorious synchronicity, the congregation bowed their head and said their silent prayers, and secret good riddances.

  “Eldrus desecrated the bodies of Geharra, and in a terrible ritual, used them to summon a creature they have named the ‘Red Worm.’ They thought by creating it across the continent, it would go unnoticed. They intended to send this bloody weapon here, to Penance, to destroy us. And as many of you know as of today, they tried. But by the time it reached Gallows, our god intervened and smote it from the earth.”

  The Holy Child took another drink of water. Everyone else did as well. While he must have sounded tough to those before him, inside, he was as weak as could be. Just looking at his food made his stomach do a backflip. But he had to see this announcement through. He could, and would, cry about it later.

  “There is a rebel group trying to take credit for stopping the Red Worm. I assure you, no man could harm such a foul beast. Do not believe the lies of vultures, for they speak with the stink carrion on their breaths.

  “It is with a heavy heart that I report to you that Alexander Blodworth has perished. He sits with god now.” The Holy Child looked over to one the exemplars’ table, at a young, brown-skinned woman seated there. “But it is with much happiness that I elect Alexander Blodworth’s assistant, Karyl Elesh, to join the exemplars. Behold and give praise to your new Exemplar of Restraint.”

  Slowly, the rest of the room rose to their feet. In sporadic, forced bursts, they clapped for their new beaming exemplar.

  What do they care? the Holy Child thought as he watched Karyl soak up the applause. It’s too soon… unless Justine wanted people to think of Karyl when they thought of this tragedy.

  When the weak show of support died down, which didn’t take long, the Holy Child continued. “I am very sorry to share such grave news at such an early hour, but our lord wishes to keep nothing from us. God does have a plan, and when it is time—” the Holy Child looked at Justine, “—it will be shared with us. Fear not, for we are his sheep, and a shepherd will always protect their flock.”

  After that, breakfast moved at the pace of a funeral dirge. Most of the food remained untouched, because baseless speculation was far more savory. To avoid a panic, which was only permitted when the Demagogue had manufactured it, Mother Abbess Justine dismissed everyone from the gathering hall earlier than usual and sent the Holy Child on his way to finish the rest of his duties.

  After morning prayer, announcements, and breakfast, the Holy Child was confined to a classroom with one of the exemplars until lunch. Today, oddly enough, he was with Isla Taggart’s uncle, Augustus Enfield, Exemplar of Innocence. They were supposed to be studying the treaty of non-violence that existed between the quarters of Penance when it was known as Six Pillars. But the only thing the Holy Child heard during these lessons were his own thoughts.

  Ten thousand dead? Eldrus is responsible? And we might have the only surviving member of the royal family locked up here? He gazed outside the classroom window. He had to squint to see Penance through the falling snow. Justine is planning something. Is she testing me? Don’t feel bad about the ten thousand, don’t feel bad. They’re with god now.

  Augustus Enfield cleared his throat to get the Holy Child’s attention. And the Holy Child gave him no more than a tenth of it.

  I need to tell her about the nightmares. He started taking notes, but all he wrote was gibberish. For the last month, almost every night, he had been having the same dream. In it, he was in a gray place, a kind of Void. But he wasn’t alone. The Night Terror who had saved him from Samuel Turov, the one who had the raven head, she was there, too. But she looked different. She had feathers instead of skin, and wings. Around her neck, she wore a pretty necklace that always shone bright blue. He’d even tried to talk to her once in his dream, but when she tried to talk back, she could only make choking sounds. The strange thing was, every time he woke up, this morning included, the scar on his thigh hurt. He had a few scars there. Most of them he was trying to forget how he got them. But that one, the one that hurt, that was the one from the lake monster the Night Terror had killed.

  After lessons came lunch. With a company of guards, he ate his food in the small chapel that crowned the main terminal. During this hour, people lined up outside the chapel to speak, one at a time, to him.

  “A lot of people here to see you today,” Avery said. He and Mackenzie stood behind him, while the other, less familiar guards, manned the entrance. “Think you could take a break from that peanut butter sandwich to talk to a few of them?”

  The Holy Child shook his head as he took a big drink of milk. The only person he wanted to talk to was Justine. He wouldn’t see her again until their private evening dinner. Besides, peanut butter sandwiches were his favorite. At the moment, it was the only thing stopping his anxious heart from bursting out of his chest.

  “Bring someone in,” Mackenzie said to the guards at the front. “We’re ready.”

  Ten thousand dead, a monster made from their remains. The Holy Child gulped down some more milk. He hollowed out his sandwich until the crust was left, and left them there, for the birds. God, did you not help them because they were sinners? I know they were our enemy, but I feel bad for them.

  The first to enter the chapel was a bearded old man with a bad knee. He went to the Holy Child’s table.

  With ten feet and Avery and Mackenzie between them, the old man bowed the best that he could and said, “It is an honor to stand in your presence. I mean no disrespect to the others, but you are the greatest of the Holy Children to come before you.”

  Nodding, quickly dodging that sore subject, he asked, “What is your name?”

  “Bart, your holiness.”

  “It is an honor to meet you as well.”

  “I know that a lot of people want to talk to you today, so I’ll be quick.”

  The Holy Child nodded. “Many need guidance in these dark times.”

  “Will there be war?” Bart’s eyes bulged as he asked the question.

  “I don’t know yet,” the Holy Child said. “I hope not.”

  “We were blamed for the Trauma. I don’t want Penance to be blamed for tearing the continent apart.”

  “Nor do I.”

  Bart scratched his bristly beard. “Did the lord tell you a long time ago about the Red Worm? It sounds like it’s been a long time since what happened in Geharra. I’m sure you were waiting until the right moment to tell us.”

  The Holy Child felt as though he were being tested, so he said, “Thank you, Bart, for talking to me,” and sent the old man limping on his way.

  The more people that came into the chapel to see him, the shorter he found himself becoming with each of them. Unsurprisingly, they wanted to know about the Red Worm and how Penance would respond. But the same question they kept asking him was the one that hit him the hardest: Why hadn’t god told him sooner? He didn’t have an answer, because aside from knowing the monster was out there, he had never been told where it came from or why it existed at all. He hadn’t heard anything from god. In fact, god hadn’t even been the one to tell him at a
ll. It was Justine who broke the news. Most of the time, it always was.

  The Holy Child sighed as he watched another man being ushered into the chapel. For a moment, he doubted himself and who he was supposed to be. Maybe Justine should be the speaker. She sure seems better at it than—

  The man cleared his throat. His arm wasn’t Corrupted like most. Instead, the Corruption was freckled, splotchy, and it ran from his fingers all the way up to his neck. The Holy Child had seen this man before. He was in charge of the main terminal and its upkeep.

  “Your holiness,” he began, bowing. His eyes darted back and forth between Avery and Mackenzie. “I know your lunch is almost over. Thank you for taking the time to speak to me.”

  “If only I had more time… Grant,” he said, remembering the man’s name at the last minute.

  A big smile spread across Grant’s face. He hadn’t expected that.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “You can…” Grant’s voice deepened. He bared his teeth, clamped them together. Small pricks of blue light started to shine across his irises. “Tell them the truth.”

  Avery and Mackenzie reached for their swords, but the Holy Child told them to stop.

  “Tell them about the cult.” Grant’s lips quivered. Drool seeped out the corner of his mouth. “The cult of your nightmares.” The blue light in his eyes grew brighter. “The Cult of the Worm!”

  At this, Avery and Mackenzie grabbed Grant by his arms and hauled him out of the chapel, through the back entrance. He didn’t resist, he just kept staring at the Holy Child, his eyes glowing, mumbling, “Maiden… Maiden…” over and over again.

  After morning prayer, announcements, breakfast, lessons, lunch, and afternoon guidance, the only thing the Holy Child wanted to do was go back to his room and disappear for the next century into his journal.

  This is too much, he thought, trudging through Pyra, to his next duty. Please, god, let me get through this day. Please, I need you more than ever.

  After afternoon guidance, the Holy Child met with the governing bodies of Penance, to receive updates on the city. These sessions often ran long, and were mostly for the exemplars, who also attended them. He was supposed to use what he learned during these sessions to guide his addresses to the public, so the Holy Order would always appear current. But with everything on his mind, even after a particularly delicious peanut butter sandwich, all he could do was watch Penance through the window and wonder how life would be different if he hadn’t been chosen to be god’s speaker.

  I can’t be the only one, he thought, staring at Penance. The large, fluffy white clouds over the city were always there. He was pretty sure they hadn’t moved in years. I mean, there’s always another Holy Child after the last one turns eighteen. The clouds seemed to have an endless supply of snow. Lately, though, there hadn’t been any blizzards.

  Except for Cadence, he didn’t really get to see much of the buildings of the South. But as he stared at the tall, sleek, white, and somewhat sparkling buildings of Penance, he doubted there was anything down there that could best them. Heaven must be cold, he thought, the buildings like giant icicles. It’s cold here, and when you do speak to me, lord, your words chill my mind.

  Sighing, he set his eyes on the streets of Penance, where people went about their business wrapped in scarves and thick, billowing cloaks.

  How many people live here now? I guess I could ask. He looked to the front of the room, where the minister of agriculture and the Exemplar of Knowledge were arguing about crops.

  But then they might remember I’m here.

  The Holy Child turned away from the city. He folded his arms over his desk, rested his head against his arms, and went to sleep. Nobody noticed until it was time for supper.

  “You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” Justine asked as the Holy Child shuffled into her chambers, hours later, for dinner. She was bathed in candle light, and enveloped in the smoke of incense. She pulled out the chair of the table she sat at and said, “Sit, and tell me why you hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you,” the Holy Child mumbled as he did what he was told. Tonight, everything about him hurt. His legs, his head, his throat, his brain. He felt sick from the stress of it all.

  Justine smiled. Maybe it was because of the dim lighting, but she always looked better in her chambers. Less sickly, less translucent. And he couldn’t blame her. Justine’s chambers were one of his favorite places in Pyra. The massive bed, the thick curtains. The bookshelves and their odd trinkets. She even had a small jungle towards the back, with various plants and beautiful flowers. It was a place he could fill several journals on.

  “I feel like…” The Holy Child bit the inside of his lip. He looked down at the table, where she had fixed him a plate of steak, greens, and potatoes, and filled him a cup full of wine. “I feel like… you’re testing me.”

  Justine nodded, her pale, grayish eyes glinting. “I am,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “The world is changing.” She nodded at him to eat.

  The Holy Child picked up his fork and knife and started cutting the steak into smaller pieces.

  “We need to change, too. After the Trauma, our people were scared of change. They clung closely to their beliefs and their place in the world.”

  “Why did we get the blame?” The Holy Child took a bite of the steak. His tongue prickled, a warm sensation spread throughout his body. Instantly, he felt better. “I don’t get it. Somewhere, shouldn’t it be written down what we did?”

  “It’s been a long time,” Justine said. “So long, and there have been so many stories. It would be hard to say anymore which of them were true.” She paused, nodded to herself. “If I had to say so, we were blamed for the Trauma because god didn’t save them.”

  “Kind of getting that feeling today.” He took a drink of wine. She’d given him a lot more than usual. “Do you… want me to do something? Is it because of the Red Worm?”

  “I want you to be with us until you’re old and wrinkly.” She smiled and nudged his leg with her toe. Becoming serious, she added, “You will not be replaced when you turn eighteen.”

  The Holy Child dropped his silverware. “What?”

  “I’m asking you to continue to be at my side. Every time we elect a new Holy Child, we have to start over. We have to teach them, train them. We have to introduce them to the people and hope the people take to them like their predecessor. In the past, it was necessary. People didn’t trust the Holy Order like they do now. Back then, many years ago, the Holy Order didn’t even trust itself. To invest so much in one child for a lifetime was dangerous. But we are an institution now, with a direct line to god, and you, my dear, are a genuine and wonderful individual, and the people, they love you. I’ve wanted to do away with this tradition for a while, but I couldn’t until I found the right person. It wouldn’t work unless it was the right person.”

  “Does… does god want this, too?” He wouldn’t be replaced at eighteen? It wasn’t something he often thought about—eighteen seemed so far away—but when he did, it made him shiver with fear. The Holy Children who had aged out of their position as speakers were given a final ceremony, and then never heard from again.

  “God and I want the same. Do you want this as well?”

  “Yes,” he said, in a whisper. “I don’t want to die at eighteen.”

  “Die?” Justine laughed and held his hand. “They don’t die. That’s a nasty rumor. They live long lives, serving the Holy Order. God gives them new identities when they are finished. That’s why you don’t hear or see them anymore. You, though, won’t get that. Serving the Holy Order will be your life. It will be difficult, but it is also god’s will that you do this.”

  “I knew you were testing me,” he said.

  “We just had to start somewhere. This business with the Red Worm made me move a little faster. Penance, the world, needs us more than ever. There’s a new heresy in the West, and to respond, we must change.”

&nb
sp; What does she want me to do? The Holy Child kept waiting for her to come out and say it, but what was it she was trying to say?

  Justine, as usual, hadn’t touched her food. She never did. “Do you remember the rumors that King Edgar returned from the Nameless Forest with a child?”

  He nodded.

  “Those rumors are true. Up until now, very few had seen him, let alone remembered the rumor at all. But the child is real. They are calling him the Anointed One. King Edgar and this child are accusing Penance of not only creating the Red Worm, but of worshiping a false idol. You see, they have started a new religion in Eldrus, a religion they claim follows the true God. It is called the Disciples of the Deep. It started in Eldrus, and has taken over in Nyxis.”

  “True God?” The Holy Child wrinkled his forehead. His neck got hot and sweaty. “No, they’re wrong.”

  “They are. You and I both know better than anyone else that they are.” Justine’s hands became fists. “But Eldrus and the Heartland are convinced we are responsible for the Red Worm. And we’ve lost many of our footholds in the Heartland, as well. People don’t believe like they used to. King Edgar foretold the death of the Red Worm, so when it happened, he found himself with new followers from this ‘miracle.’” She shook her head, looked as though she were about to spit. “Do you see now why we must be consistent, as well as adaptable?”

  The Holy Child nodded. As the blood boiled in his veins, his heart began to beat hard to the thudding rhythm of newfound purpose.

  “I will have new missions for you. Some of them may be dangerous, and it hurts me to put you in danger, but we must learn how to weather adversity if we are going survive.”

  “You’re talking about Audra of Eldrus?” The Holy Child wished he had his journal. He wanted badly to show her all he’d observed this morning in Isla Taggart’s room.