Whispers of Heaven (Saga of the Rose Book 1)

by Krista Rose

  I stared at him. “You want to travel over a thousand miles, to a country we’ve only ever heard of, because of the weather?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. No, of course not.” He coughed. “It’s just- I thought-”

  “Please get to the point already.” Alyxen grabbed the bottle of wine and took a swig. “Before we all die of old age.”

  He took a deep breath. “The Allun Temple is in Mejares.”

  “The what?” I stared at him blankly.

  “The Allun Temple.” He stared at me, willing me to understand. “It’s in the Ryno de Syro. The priests worship the dragons that live in the volcanoes. I can learn to control my fire there, and I wouldn’t have to worry about hurting anyone.”

  “You’re not hurting anyone now,” Alyxen pointed out.

  “Because I’m holding it in.” He shook his head. “I know, it’s a crazy idea. Our first day in Fallor, and I’m talking about leaving. But I need to learn control. Control is everything.” His breath hitched, and my eyes narrowed as his stray thoughts filled with the image of Nephele. Then he sighed. “Let’s face it. We’ve gotten lucky so far, but what happened at the Temple of Vanae, when I got drunk-” He glanced down at his hand. “I lost control. I could have killed someone.”

  “You didn’t,” Reyce reminded him.

  “Not that time, but what about the next time? What if none of you are around to stop me?” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “The fire’s always there, right under the surface. It’s getting stronger, harder to keep my hands from burning.” When he looked up, his face was bleak. “I don’t want to hurt you. Any of you.”

  Kryssa laid her hand atop his. “You won’t.”

  The serving woman reappeared, expertly carrying a heavy tray through the crowd. She set bowls of steaming, unappealing stew in front of us, scowled, and left again.

  I made a face at my bowl. “This looks awful.”

  “It probably tastes better than it looks.” Alyxen took a large bite to prove it, then choked, his eyes watering as he forced himself to swallow. “Nope, I was wrong. It’s just as bad as it looks.”

  I took a small bite, and gagged as my mouth was filled with the taste of dirty boots. “Ugh! Oh my Gods, that’s disgusting.”

  Brannyn chewed thoughtfully. “Well, it’s not good, but it certainly beats Kryssa’s cooking.”

  She gave him a cool stare as the rest of us snickered. He merely grinned, and took another bite.

  It set the mood for the remainder of the meal, so that we laughed and joked as we choked down the truly abysmal stew with watered wine. When we had finished, I went to find the serving woman, paying her with just enough of a tip to make her eyes widen. I drained a little of the unhappiness from her, feeling the exhaustion of her days weigh upon me, though her tremulous smile made the effort worth it. I joined the others at the door, smiling as we walked back outside into the mild evening air.

  Full stomachs and an end to our journey made us languorous, so that we sauntered through the empty market square. Lanterns had been lit on tall wooden posts, and their flickering light cast eerie shadows across the buildings, leaving the alley that led to our apartment in stark darkness.

  Our laughter grew muted by the heavy weight of the night, and a feeling of wrongness slithered out of the dark, choking our breath. I found myself wishing I had a weapon, if only for the comfort having it would bring. Then I remembered the Crone, and shuddered at the thought.

  The rear of the shop was smothered in shadows so thick we could not even see the stairs, and my skin turned to ice despite the warmth of the night. Even the air felt malevolent, and above the smell of garbage I caught the scent of death, foul and decaying. I gagged, and prayed my stew wouldn’t make a reappearance.

  The shadows stirred, and Kryssa took a hesitant step forward. “Kylee?” she whispered, as Brannyn created a small ball of fire in his hand for light.

  The darkness spun, screeching, as a face out of some demented god’s nightmare glared at us through blazing white eyes. Its face resembled a skull, sunken and hideous, parchment-thin skin stretched over sharpened bone. Its teeth were jagged and broken in its lipless mouth, and the cloak it wore over its hunched, twisted body was ragged and decaying.

  I stood, paralyzed with sudden fear. What is this nameless horror? I wondered numbly. Who would create such a thing, to haunt my nightmares for the rest of my days?

  It screeched again, an inhuman sound of fury as it reached for Kryssa with elongated, contorted fingers.

  Brannyn shouted and threw out his hand, the ball of flame turning blue as it leapt to consume the creature. The air was suddenly blistering, chasing the chill from my skin if not from my blood, the charnel-house reek of burning, rotted flesh and choking smoke filling my nose.

  The creature collapsed.

  For a moment, there was only silence as we stared at the burning remnants of the gruesome monster, watching as it crumpled in upon itself until only ash and smoke was left behind. Brannyn’s hand continued to burn, and he gazed around, wary and waiting for another attack.

  “K- Kryssa?”

  I inhaled sharply, staring into the shadows of the alley.

  Kylee crawled forward, her face deathly pale as she appeared from beneath the stairs. Her blind terror slammed into me, her mind unshielded, and my knees buckled beneath me.

  The monster had been after her.

  Kryssa and Alyxen rushed forward, and Kylee collapsed into their arms, weeping.

  KRYSSA

  8 Driel 578A.F.

  It was late when we all finally managed to fall asleep, and only habit forced me to wake before dawn a few short hours later. Bleary-eyed, I gazed across the room at my sisters, who shared the narrow cot. Kylee’s fright would have kept her from sleeping at all, had Lanya not used her gifts to comfort her. Remembering brought back visions of the creature, and I grimaced, knowing I would no longer be able to sleep. I rubbed my eyes and rose from my pallet to check on my brothers, and found them sleeping as well.

  My stomach cramped with growing hunger; the awful stew the night before had not been very filling. I slipped on my boots and donned my worn cloak against the morning chill, and quietly left the apartment for the market.

  The sight of the scorched cobblestones in the alley made me pause as I remembered the glowing white eyes that had stared into me, filled with a lust for blood and an infinite greed. It had been a monster, one I was sure I had never heard of, here, in Fallor. I stared at the burnt stones, undeniable proof that the creature had been real, and not some sort of shared dream brought about by exhaustion and strange surroundings.

  It took more effort than I thought to start walking again, to pass the charred mark and walk alone down the shadowed alley. I tried to think of the creature objectively, rather than through the fear that tried to grip my throat. I almost felt there had been something familiar about it, though I couldn’t place what it was. It was frustrating, this glimpse of a similar memory I couldn’t recall, some hidden horror my mind refused to find, and I growled as it slipped away.

  I needed to study, to find books or a scholar who could tell me more about what we had faced. Those eyes… I shuddered, and pushed the thoughts away. I would contemplate monsters and darkness later, after the sun had risen and burned away the remnants of the night.

  The market was slowly filling with drowsy-eyed vendors, who gazed at me blankly as I made my way to a baker’s cart. He yawned widely as I selected six fresh buns, still warm and steaming from the ovens, and I bundled them into my arms as he pocketed my coins without a word.

  I started back toward the incense shop, my mind turning to the things I needed to do that day. We needed food, and dishes, since the apartment had only come with a kettle and three tin cups. We needed to rebuild the stable, and Nightking would need to be exercised before being returned to the inn. Lanya would be spending her first day in the apothecary, and I did not know if she intended to make dinner; Brannyn’s teasing aside, my cooking was fairly awful, and
I did not want to punish the others with it unnecessarily. And, of course, I needed to find our grandfather.

  I was wondering where Tarrow Street might be, staring over my shoulder, and so did not notice the man who lingered in the shadows of the alley until I ran into him. I staggered back, and his hand shot out from beneath his heavy, hooded cloak to catch my arm before I could fall.

  His grip was strong and firm, and I gasped in sudden pain as it bruised me. His skin, what little of it I could see, was almost golden, a trick of the guttering lanterns. He withdrew the hand as soon as I regained my balance, and turned away before I could see his face.

  “I’m very sorry,” I called after him, clutching my bread to my chest, cursing my sudden panic at his grab- a remnant of the fear my father had installed in me. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  He made no response as he walked away, obviously uninterested in my apology. I frowned at his back, noticing at last the heavy longsword he wore, almost hidden beneath his cloak. Longswords were battle weapons meant for open fields, not towns, where the innocent could become trapped within its range. Guards and soldiers carried short swords; I had learned as much from my time spent in the Infirmary, treating the wounds caused by those weapons.

  Why would this faceless stranger be carrying such a sword?

  He rounded a corner and vanished, taking the answers to my unasked questions with him. I shook my head, shrugging away the mystery, and continued my walk back to the apartment, forcing my mind away from rude men and hidden swords.

  The others were stirring when I returned. Lanya was kneeling beside the banked fire, slowly coaxing it back to life as Reyce watched, his eyes sleepy and bruised-looking. A kettle of water sat on the floor beside my sister, along with the small tins she kept her teas in, and she glanced up as I entered, setting the bread on the table. Her eyes were dark with exhaustion. “Kylee’s still sleeping.”

  “Good. She needs it.” Kylee’s face had been bloodless with fear after her ordeal, and it had taken hours to calm her shaking. She deserved the rest after what she had been through.

  Brannyn and Alyxen joined us in the kitchen as Lanya finished preparing the tea, yawning and stretching as they wiped the sleep from their eyes. Alyxen’s hair stuck out wildly around his head, and I smiled.

  “What?” he demanded grumpily.

  “Nothing.” I added trimming my brother’s hair to my list of chores for the day, and set about handing the others the bread meant for their breakfast. Lanya poured the tea, and we shared the tin cups, the verve of her “early morning” brew making us more alert, if no less exhausted. I wished briefly for a cup of the kaffe we had been served in the Temple of Vanae, and sighed.

  “So,” Alyxen began, speaking around a mouthful of bread, “that thing last night. What was it?”

  “Don’t speak with your mouth full,” I corrected automatically. “And I don’t know what it was. I’m going to see today if there’s a library here.”

  “Maybe the Temple has one,” Lanya said helpfully. “Vanae’s did.”

  Alyxen rolled his eyes. “That was a convent, Lanya. This is a town. There will probably be only one or two priests here. I doubt they’ll have anything but religious texts.”

  She frowned at him. “And when did you learn so much about Temples?”

  He shrugged. “I asked.” Then he smiled smugly. “Not all of us get distracted kissing pretty girls.”

  Lanya flushed to the roots of her hair, her mouth snapping open.

  I raised my hands, cutting off the argument before it could begin. “Enough. I will look for information on whatever that thing was. For now, we need to be careful. Keep an eye out, just in case.”

  “You think there are more of them?”

  “I would rather be safe than dead.” I leveled them all with a look. “Understood?”

  “Yes, Mother,” Brannyn muttered.

  I glared, but the others laughed, so I let it pass. We finished our breakfast, and Lanya returned to our room to dress as the rest of us discussed our plans for the day. It was decided after little debate that my brothers would see to the repairs of the stable. I would try to find more information about the town, and seek out our grandfather on my own. I worried that if presented with too many of us at once it might overwhelm him- and, too, there was Hamar’s warning of him being a “right mean old codger”. I was nervous of the reception we would receive, and decided to risk it alone rather than subject my siblings to an uncertain welcome.

  Lanya emerged from our room as we finished, and she and I left as the others went to dress and prepare for the day’s work. I walked her to the apothecary as the sun finally rose above the horizon, illuminating the streets in brilliant golden light. It warmed me, chasing away the chill left behind by the night.

  Hamar was just unlocking the shop as we arrived, looking rumpled and sleepy as he peered at us. “You’re early,” he muttered by way of greeting, and walked inside without another word.

  Lanya and I exchanged looks, and she shrugged before following him, leaving me alone in the market square. I tried to ignore the pang of abandonment.

  I contemplated whether it would be rude to look up my grandfather at such an early hour, and decided to wait until later rather than risk waking him. What I really needed was information: about the town, any jobs that might be available, and where I might look for books on the creature that had attacked us the night before.

  I rolled my shoulders, and headed for the tavern.

  REYCE

  I truly did mean to help my brothers with the stable. I wanted to help, to focus on physical labor rather than the monster that had loomed out of the shadows, the malevolent nature of it worse than anything I had ever faced. But we only had one hammer, and all my efforts to help Brannyn and Alyxen ended with me in their way, so I finally gave up and left to explore the city rather than stand around uselessly.

  I missed the Lady. I hadn’t seen her since that day in the snow, and her words still haunted me. She had said there was a darkness coming, and I tried to reconcile myself with the idea that she had spoken of the Prince, but in my heart I knew it to be a lie. Was this the darkness then, this monster that had stalked Kylee down the alley and rendered her all but mindless with fear? Or was there something beyond this, some evil that could destroy my very sanity even contemplating it?

  I remembered the words I had spoken to Lanya as her faith had faltered, of how if we were going to fight for the Gods one day as their chosen, we would have to be strong enough to endure it. There was still a part of me that believed it, but I could see the toll these hardships were taking on my family. Kryssa suffered bouts of debilitating madness, hearing thoughts not her own inside her head. Brannyn struggled with his rage and his heartbreak, fighting not to hurt the rest of us with the fire he could barely control. Lanya had night terrors, weeping in her sleep, overwhelmed from her careful maintenance of our emotions. Alyxen’s betrayal by the Prince had left him hollow, and Kylee’s sullenness cloaked a fragility she was terrified to let anyone see.

  Even I felt broken, abandoned by my Lady to the harsh, ugly agony of the world. Could we endure any more suffering?

  My footsteps and thoughts had led me wandering through the town, until I found myself standing in a quiet street before a large, open fire pit, protected from the elements by a soot-streaked marble canopy. I blinked, recognizing it as a Syrethra, and pulled my eyes from the dazzling dance of the Eternal Flame to look up at the modest, domed building that rose behind it. I stood at the base of wide, shallow steps that led to the open entrance of a temple.

  A vendor was selling flowers from a cart at the base of the stairs, a beatific smile on her face despite her large number of missing teeth. She caught my gaze, and gestured to me. I approached her warily, and was enveloped in the heavenly scent of flowers from her cart.

  “Do you seek to worship at the Temple today?” she asked me, her voice surprisingly clear as I drew to a halt beside her.

  “I don’t know,�
� I answered honestly. “Which God is worshipped here?”

  “All of them.” Her eyes were adoring as she looked up at the building. “This is the Temple of All Gods, those we worship under the Faith.” Her gaze sharpened as it returned to me. “You are new to Fallor, yes?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She hummed tunelessly for a moment, then gathered up a selection of flowers and thrust the colorful blooms out to me. “High Priestess Tamasine is caring for the Temple today. She will show you how to offer to our Gods.”

  I blinked. “But-”

  “But what?”

  I squirmed beneath her gaze. How could I explain to this woman that I was uncertain I wanted to worship our Gods, after the torment and pain they had put my siblings and me through? To live my life in suffering, to face down darkness after darkness, all because they decreed it- was it possible for me to thank them for it?

  Yet my hand reached out to take the flowers from her, and my shoulders slumped in defeat. “Nothing, ma’am.”

  “Good boy.” She was still holding out her hand expectantly, and I realized she wanted me to pay for the flowers. I made a face and reached into my pocket, grateful Kryssa had insisted we all carry some coin with us wherever we went. I handed her a thick copper crown, the embossed Sun of Valory gleaming brightly in the sunlight before vanishing into her pocket. She shooed me along. “Go on, now. And say a prayer for old Darli while you’re in there.”

  “Thank you, Darli.” I gave her a small bow, making her toothless grin widen, and walked up the shallow steps to the entrance.

  The inside of the Temple was surprisingly bright, light spilling into a large, open atrium. The air smelled of incense and silence, filled with the stillness and awe that inhabits all holy places. The marble floor was empty and bare, the room’s only décor the seven colossal statues of the Gods of the Faith.

  I gazed at them, hesitating in the doorway with the flowers clutched in my hand. I could recognize each of them from stories I had been told when I was little, first by Janis, and then later by Alyxen, read to me from thick books dusty with age. They were staggered, female, male, in the order they appeared in the pantheon, oldest to youngest, their faces downturned to gaze upon those who worshipped them. Tokens of flowers and gold had been placed on the altars at their feet.