“Evelyn,” Ilvara gasps.
And her voice replies with equal shock, “Mama!”
Chapter 12
From the Ashes
Ilvara doesn’t want to believe it. She can’t. It is not possible.
The woman clinging to her does not let go. Priscilla rushes them back into the Sanctuary. Ilvara takes the face in her hands and holds it up to the light of the single lit torch. She wants to prove to herself that she has gone mad. That the woman who burst from her coffin could not possibly be the same one laid inside.
Evelyn’s sparkling blue eyes blink from the light. Her body moves. Breathes. Her once motionless features stretch into a smile, crinkling in all the right places, pulling scars here and there just like they should. Her face glistens with tears. Ilvara trembles as she caresses Evelyn’s cheeks. Warmth. Life.
Evelyn is alive.
Ilvara grabs her in a suffocating embrace, heart swelling until it nearly bursts. She is whole again. Her daughter is alive.
She loses track of how long she’s held her. Perhaps days, even. But eventually, the room comes into focus. And with it, the creature on the stairs in the pale night dress.
Ilvara stills, sniffing once more before she slowly straightens.
“Maven,” she says lowly, fire in her voice.
Evelyn turns as well. Maven’s knees shake, visible through the white fabric of her nightdress. Her long, dark hair is twisted into a braid on her shoulder, slightly frayed like she slept in it. Oddly, it appears as if she belongs here. As if she’s slept here a hundred times.
Maven raises a shaky finger, eyes wide in shock. “You were dead. I…I killed you.”
Ilvara pushes Evelyn behind her, placing herself between her and her daughter’s killer. “She was.”
“You…you…” Maven’s eyes fill with tears.
Ilvara eyes Priscilla. “How could you do this? Were you trying to make a fool of us?”
Priscilla reaches out to her, but Ilvara jerks away, backing into Evelyn.
“No,” Priscilla says. “I…I made a mistake. I took pity on Maven and let her stay here. Then I heard Caius—”
“Caius,” Evelyn says, “where is he?”
Ilvara narrows her eyes at Priscilla. “And you decided you would bring us all together for a happy reunion? You claim to be a minister of Herus, of a god, and you keep a killer in your walls? That’s despicable.”
Priscilla wrings her hands uncertainly. “I didn’t…I never expected…”
Ilvara shakes her head. “Report Maven, or I will.”
Maven races down the stairs toward them. Ilvara screams at her to stop. Priscilla shouts for help. The men by the door, including Grogar, drop their shovels and grab Maven tightly. She kicks in their arms.
“I just wanted to see her!” Maven screams.
More ministers pour down from the stairs, blinking in confusion at the chaos.
“I want to kiss her feet!” Maven’s voice rings off the walls. “I want to kiss the feet of she who has risen from the dead.”
The ministers stare at the strangers in their midst. Their eyes ask a million questions. The men try to keep Maven still.
“The fact that you would all hold a murderer in your Sanctuary appalls me,” Ilvara says bitterly to the newcomers. “This woman offered help to us when we were in need. I wouldn’t have taken it if I would have known what you are. The Shrine took our money, but you have taken the very integrity out of god-worship. This god you serve must be a very malicious and greedy being.”
“Mama,” Evelyn says quietly behind her. Ilvara turns at once. “Herus raised me.”
The room stills. Ilvara furrows her brows. Her exhausted mind whirrs with the recent events. “What?”
“When I died, I found myself in a place darker than night itself, so dark that not even the flames could brighten it, and the fire was everywhere. Black and red and searing hot. The fire tore us apart, but we did not die. The suffering did not end.”
The walls are silent as death at Evelyn’s explanation. Chills rise over Ilvara’s skin. From across the room, Priscilla’s quiet voice asks, “Who was with you?”
“We never exchanged names, but there were countless people. Thousands and thousands, spread throughout this dark fire. It burned like acid.” Evelyn gulps, running her hands over her arms. “I can still feel it.”
Ilvara searches her face. “Really?”
Evelyn nods. “We were all begging for something. For water, for air, for food. My insides burned with a strange hunger. But on top of our physical needs, we begged for someone to tell our loved ones of that place. We screamed into the emptiness until our voices were hoarse. It was torture for us, but it would be twice as horrible if someone we loved was doomed there also. I could only think of you, Mama, and Caius and Asher, and everyone I’ve known. You’re all bound for Hades.”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear anymore,” Ilvara says, cold with sweat, trembling still.
Evelyn grips her arm fervently. “You must. Because there is a way out. Herus. You must trust Herus.”
“Herus? You mean I need to serve their god?” Ilvara waves a hand at the hypocrites around her. “The god of the ones who sheltered a murderer? Who deceived us?”
“Only I deceived you,” Priscilla confesses. “The rest of them didn’t know.”
Ilvara scans them. Their expressions of horror, anger, and fear confirm Priscilla’s words, as do their worried glances at Maven.
“I heard what she said,” Evelyn continues, gesturing to Priscilla. “She prayed that Herus show his almighty power, that those who did not believe would see Herus for who he truly is. You worship separate gods of strength, of protection, of health, but Herus is God of all. And before anything, he is the God of love.”
The words, the people, the events of this night are all too much. Ilvara shakes her head, dizzy. “We need to get away from here. I can’t… I can’t think.”
Evelyn nods. “We’ll go to an inn.”
“I have…no money,” Ilvara says.
“I’ll go with the men to take Maven to the dungeons,” Priscilla says. “You can stay here tonight.”
Maven begins sobbing pathetically at that. Grogar grips her tight and says, “I will ensure she is prosecuted, my lady. I swear it.”
“Please,” Priscilla says to Ilvara. “Stay here. Rest.”
Ilvara glares at her, wishing she had any other option. “Fine.”
“Anna, would you take them to my room?” Priscilla asks. A woman with light brown hair and eyes nods at the top of the staircase. Quietly, she leads them up. As Evelyn passes the men, Maven reaches out to her. Ilvara yanks her back.
“I want hope,” Maven cries, hysterical. “Give me hope. I know I deserve that place, don’t I? That’s where I’m going when they behead me, isn’t it?”
To everyone’s shock, Evelyn wrenches from Ilvara’s grip and takes Maven’s hands.
“Believe in Herus,” Evelyn tells her. “Believe, and be free, Maven.”
“Thank you,” Maven sobs. “Thank you.”
Ilvara grabs Evelyn firmly and follows Anna upstairs. She hears the men drag Maven out as she blubbers out a prayer to Herus. The door slamming behind them shuts out her voice. With her and Priscilla gone, Ilvara finally can relax.
“Here we are,” Anna says softly, opening a door in the corridor as if guiding them to the finest room in the inn. “There’s food, water, and wine in the kitchens, fresh cloth right there, and bedding for both of you. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Evelyn nods to her. “Many thanks,” she says.
Ilvara collapses onto the bed, its coverlets already rumpled. There’s a warm spot beneath her. Her stomach turns when she thinks Maven may have slept here.
Evelyn sits beside her. “Mama, you must trust Herus.”
“I need a few minutes to breathe, Evelyn,” Ilvara says. She wraps her arms around the dear girl. “I missed you so.”
Evelyn stays silent in her arms.
Ilvara wonders anyway what she could say. What is there to say when you’ve been dead and in Hades for the last few days and have now returned to humanity again?
When Ilvara lets her go, Evelyn reaches for the cup on the side table and fills it with water from the pitcher. She refills it again and again until the pitcher is drained. Then she takes the cloth and washes her arms and legs. Ilvara helps her, scrubbing away the scent of death from her dear daughter’s body. Evelyn pushes her dress off her shoulders so Ilvara can examine her stab wound. A two-inch, white scar joins the small collection of others beneath her breastbone. Ilvara traces it with the tip of her finger, picturing Maven against her, dagger buried to the hilt in Evelyn’s chest. She pulls Evelyn close again, sobbing into her hair.
Finally, dressed in clean clothes, Evelyn sits down to drink more water.
Ilvara studies her. “Were you really there? In Hades?” The name comes out a whisper, as if the simple act of uttering it will damn her soul.
Sighing after her last cup of water, Evelyn replaces it on the table. Her blue eyes flood with tears again. “I was.”
“What happened? How did you get out?”
“Well, I first heard Priscilla shout, then all of Hades shook. Those around me were suddenly gone, and I was alone. For what felt like forever, I was very confused, lost in this darkness, and terribly alone. In the darkness a minister of Herus appeared. His presence glowed like the sun itself. It was so wonderful to see the light again. He reached a hand out to me, and I took it without hesitation. Then I woke up in the coffin.”
Ilvara wraps a blanket around herself, chilled. “How do you know it was Herus and not another god? Even Nex, lord of death?”
Evelyn looks at her hands folded in her lap. “It was Herus. I feel it in my very soul. I saw nothing of any other god.”
“Are you certain?”
Evelyn nods. “In Hades, it was all made clear. Even though I knew almost nothing of Herus when I was living, I knew him when I was dead. I knew his Son, Fillium Herus. I knew his Spirit, soaring on the wings of the air, living in the hearts of those who trust in him. And I knew him, the Godhead, the Almighty, the Creator of all that exists.”
“So there are three of them?”
“No. He exists in three whole persons, but there is only one Herus.”
Ilvara shakes her head. “All right.”
“I don’t know how to explain it. It was just something I knew. I saw every race of Aranea doomed to Hades if they reject Him.”
Ilvara laughs once without humour. “He sounds like a vengeful, hateful god to me. Why would he doom every being he’s created? He sounds like an angry craftsman dissatisfied with his work.”
“No, not at all. He loves every one of his creation, every human, every Orc, every Talparian, Asparrux—everyone. But our evil, selfish selves cannot enter Paradise. We must be cleansed and made holy. Nothing but the blood of Fillium Herus can cleanse such stains. Without his blood, we must pay for our own sins in Hades when we die.”
Ilvara considers those Herus might think deserving of such a fate—murderers like Maven, adulterers like Hadrian, liars and thieves like Priscilla and the people at the Shrine. All doomed to Hades for their crimes.
“I suppose that’s fair,” she concludes. “Herus wants everyone to be perfect, then, and if we commit murder or adultery, we die and go to Hades.”
“That’s not necessarily true. We were doomed for Hades since birth, no matter the good or bad we do. Sin was born into us, like the colour of our hair or skin. So even those who have not physically murdered or committed adultery will still go to Hades. Even you, Mama. You’ve lied, no? Been greedy?”
Ilvara furrows her brows. “That doesn’t seem fair. Herus makes everyone follow him, or else we are destined for eternal suffering, all because of a sin curse that he created?”
“It was one of Herus’ fallen seraphs who brought the curse of sin.”
“But if Herus is some all-powerful, almighty being, then he at least allowed it.”
“In a sense, but you’re looking at it in the wrong light.” Evelyn spreads her hands. “Herus created us. He made us specifically to worship him all our days, but if we are losing ourselves in this world, in bowing down to gods we fashion ourselves, then we are not worshipping him, the one who crafted us and loves us endlessly. It isn’t that we are to be chained to Herus’ plough, forced to serve him or perish. He has given us a free will. Choose him and receive his blessings—his presence, daily help, and an eternal home in Paradise—or choose the world and pursue its pleasures, enjoy the shallow satisfaction of this life, then die and suffer forever.”
“It seems simple when you say it like that.”
“It is and it isn’t.” Evelyn smiles. “If it was all simple, everyone would follow Herus, but our sin nature convinces us that it isn’t worth it, that it’s bondage instead of freedom. That we can reach Paradise on our own. Sometimes it pushes the thought of eternity right out of our heads, and we’re left believing that this life is all there is, and when we die, there’s just nothing. But that isn’t true.”
Ilvara lets out her breath. “I wish it were.”
“But if it were true, what would be the purpose of existing? What would any of this matter?”
“It’s one thing to have the evidence of your resurrection,” Ilvara says with a small laugh. She reaches over to grip Evelyn’s hand. At her flinch, Ilvara’s eyes fill with tears again. “It would be quite another to believe all of this without much evidence.”
“Even without me, there is evidence. We just haven’t seen it before. You never knew much about Herus or his ministers, but we’re here now. Speak with them. Have them tell you how Herus changed their lives. I promise you—none of them regret following him.”
Ilvara nods. “I will speak with them on the morrow. Until then, we should sleep.”
Evelyn doesn’t lie down on the floor. She stretches out next to Ilvara in bed, laying her head on her shoulder.
“I remember when I was very scared in your cottage,” she says wistfully, “you would lie down next to me and tell me that all would be well. All the noises I heard outside were only the sounds of nature, not bandits coming after me.”
Ilvara’s voice breaks. “I remember.”
“And I can finally rest with peace in my heart.” Evelyn sighs deeply. “Even if I die tonight, I’ll go to Paradise. I’ll be with the one who saved me, the one I can now love and praise and serve the rest of my days.”
Ilvara strokes her hair hesitantly, shaken from it all. “Sleep, dear.”
But sleep doesn’t come. After a lengthy silence, Evelyn asks, “Mama, where is Caius?”
“Caius left.”
Evelyn sits up. “Where?”
“I don’t know. He walked away as we were burying you.”
The moonlight shimmers off strands of Evelyn’s golden hair. “We need to find him.”
“Please don’t concern yourself for him.”
Evelyn lowers her brows. “Why not?”
Ilvara drops her eyes to a scar on Evelyn’s arm that looks newer than the rest. Did that happen while she was out in the woods with him?
“Is there something wrong? Are you very tired?” Evelyn asks.
“Yes,” Ilvara says. “I have had a long day.”
Evelyn lies back down. “Perhaps he just went into the city. He was in the Guild here, you know. He may have returned to it.”
“That must be it.”
“Can we check on the morrow?”
“Let’s sleep first.”
“All right.”
As Evelyn’s breathing slows, Ilvara holds her close. Tears run down the sides of her face. There is a lot to consider, far too much. The scattered emotions rolling through her in waves exhaust her enough that she finally shuts her eyes. Sleep carries her away at long last.
Ortus
Chapter 13
Onward
Caius should have taken a horse.
The night wearied his
bones, but he hasn’t stopped moving, though his wild run has long since slowed to a steady walk. It is nearly dawn. Amber light crawls into the foliage above like live tentacles aching to spread warmth and light into the trees. He crosses the dense forests of Ardellon now in the direction of the Peaks of Cinis. It won’t be many hours now until he reaches the area surrounding Prynveil. He will have to either walk around or cross Blackmist Pond. Crossing it will be faster, if he can acquire a boat in good time. The journey will take him all of the next two days, and probably half of the following one; longer if he sleeps through the nights. He isn’t sure if he will bother trying, though. He has a job to do.
Caius is well accustomed to these forests. Before first joining the bandit clan, he crossed them many times while hunting, heading to Crescent Moon Cave, or just exploring. He is comfortable in this forest, with the vast meadow not far southwest.
Caius stops and looks off in that direction. The meadow. He remembers telling the dragon weeks ago to return to its home beneath the soil and boulders of the meadow. When he was a bandit, he learned much about dragons, how they burrow deep into the ground to create tunnels and passages with their enormous claws and teeth. Their most common homes are in volcanoes, like the long-dormant Peaks of Cinis, or closer to the centre of Aranea, where cave floors burst into lava springs and the walls are hot to the touch. That’s where dragons dwell during cold winters, at least Ardellon’s dragons.
Taking a dragon would cut his travel time down significantly, and yet, Caius hesitates. It all began with Leo, though at the time Caius wanted to kill him, he wasn’t fully thinking of a list. But ever since last night, he decided it was time to make one. Each person who contributed to pain in her life or who was involved in her death must die. It is the only way to make some kind of peace with this. The list includes Maven, Leo, the bandits, and, last of all, himself.
Though, because of his current destination, he might not get the chance to kill Maven. And who knows where Leo could be now? He hates that he will have to leave the most crucial targets to their own fates.
Of Embers Page 9
