The Spirit of the Realm

by Rachel L Brown

  “Gods damn it who did that?” He whirled to face his men, all of whom shook their heads.

  “I did, lad,” Lord Rover’s voice boomed as he stepped out from the shadows.

  “Why did you do that? I needed to learn who sent her!” Felix snapped and marched over to the body. He searched every pocket he could find but found nothing, neither a letter nor a mark on her.

  “Your Highness!” Alvar shouted when he emerged from behind some ruins; the other Vestrals trailed behind him carrying a few severed heads. The glowing runes on his robe faded while he took in the scene before him.

  “I see you caught a couple. Any idea where they came from?” Felix asked. A soldier ran over and handed him a wet rag. The minor cut on his throat stung as he used the cloth to wipe away the blood.

  “No, but I suspect they might be tied to the Western Marshes.”

  Felix glanced over at the cart, where most of his men had gathered around and sighed with relief.

  “Gather your things. We leave immediately.”

  A WEEK LATER, THEY stood at the base of the Avemdal Mountains. Unlike the other three passes, the Northern Pass was the longest. It would be another two weeks before they arrived.

  They camped right outside Snidahem, a city that had been carved into the rocky cliff side. Some of the homes looked ready to break loose at any moment. The builders of this city had decided against a wall, perhaps thinking the houses looking like they would collapse at any moment would be enough of a deterrent. The real prize lay deep within the mountain range.

  Ten of his men had gone to buy supplies while the remaining twenty kept a watchful eye out for assassins.

  Felix yawned and splashed his face with water from an icy stream. He whipped out his sword when he heard a twig snap, he quickly sheathed it when he saw one of his men staring back at him with surprise and a bit of fear.

  He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of paranoia. He refused to end up like his father. The last thing his men needed was him thinking assassins were going to swoop down on them at any moment.

  “As you were, soldier,” he said and walked over to the small campfire where Lord Rover and Alvar were sitting around. Alvar was frowning at a piece of paper, he looked up at Felix with a pained expression.

  Felix sat down, and Lord Rover handed him a piece of roasted boar meat.

  “What is it now?” he asked between bites.

  “I have just received word from the High Vestral that the Queen will host a Tournament of Celebration in addition to the Rite of Choosing.”

  Felix dropped his boar meat. “A tournament? Why?”

  “Apparently, the King of the Western Marshes will be there for... negotiations.”

  “Negotiations,” Felix echoed.

  “Gods, this is about that bloody town we burnt, isn’t it?” Lord Rover grumbled.

  “The letter did not say. The High Vestral is not one to divulge too much information via courier. But I would assume so,” Alvar said and tossed the paper into the fire.

  Felix frowned and watched the paper dissolve into ashes. With the King of the Western Marshes arriving, his chances of being beheaded for treason rose with each passing day.

  “I want the Marshmires to go straight into the royal dungeons the moment we get to the capitol,” Felix said, and both men turned with surprised looks on their faces. Lord Rover folded his arms across his chest.

  “Why? Are you planning on running?” Lord Rover asked.

  “No, I am planning on competing,” Felix said.

  “Are you mad?!” Lord Rover exclaimed and Alvar choked on a piece of boar meat. “Why in the name of everything that is holy do you want to compete?”

  “I agree with Lord Rover,” Alvar wheezed as his eyes watered. “This is a terrible idea. How are you going to get your griffin?”

  “Berserker’s mate is most likely going to compete with her Lord, and you know how griffins are about being separated from their mates for too long...”

  Alvar chugged down a tankard of ale and Lord Rover continued to look at Felix like he’d lost his head.

  “Why do you want to compete? Why not flee the country? I can say you were murdered by the assassin!”

  “I stand by my belief that what I did was necessary. We cannot continue to have the Western Marshes raid our borders like they are nothing. How long until the Eastern Isles learn of this? How long until they attack our trade ships?”

  Lord Rover remained silent and Alvar set down his tankard.

  “The Queen might also chop his head off, might as well have some fun before you get the axe,” Alvar said as he rose. “I’ll go inform the men that you will leave separately to draw away any assassins. I will escort the Marshmires to Avemdal and say that you are further behind.”

  “Thank you, Alvar. You have been of great service all these years.”

  Alvar clapped him on the shoulder. “You better win this or I swear I will petition the God of the Dead to give you the most uncomfortable bed in the afterlife.”

  “I still think this is a bad idea,” Lord Rover grumbled then sighed. “Well then, I guess we had better get a move on. We must get you the proper armor and such.”

  Felix jumped to his feet and ran for his tent; he grabbed a small bag that carried the few belongings he had. He glanced at his plate armor; the crest of his house had been painted onto it. If he wore that to the tournament he would be found out and thrown into a dungeon. If he painted over it, his mother would execute him as the armor had belonged to her father and handed down to him upon his death. He would have to purchase some armor once they got to the capitol.

  Slinging the leather bag over his shoulder, he ran out of the tent. A soldier brought his horse over. Though the prospect of being beheaded loomed over him, he hadn’t felt this alive in years.

  9

  The Vestral and the Boar

  SADE STARED DOWN AT the small, round piece of wood she was carving; it was a rune of healing Vestral Marius had requested. A pile of finished runes lay on the table in front of her. She’d been in the village for almost a month now, and whispers of war with the Western Marshes had trickled in from passing merchants. The mood in the village soured at the news, their joy for their peasant queen diminished ever so slightly.

  She had not seen Attrius or the mysterious man since that day. She looked everywhere in the tiny village, but her searches had been in vain. Sade would’ve thought she dreamed the entire thing, if it were not for the fact her rune for the God of Justice held a slightly less amount of magic in it.

  “Miss Sade!” The door to the workshop slammed opened; Herjack and Devin tumbled in. Sade did her best to not look annoyed at the two boys, though at times they did their best to test her patience.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s time for supper!” Herjack yelled while Devin picked up a finished rune.

  “Ooo pretty, what’s this one say?” he asked and held up a rune of fire.

  “Devin don’t touch the runes! You might accidently activate it,” Sade said.

  “Ha! Papa says you don’t have to worry since the runes have to be.... to be...” his face scrunched up when he looked at her.

  “Enchanted?” Sade asked gently and the boy’s face lit up.

  “Yes! Enchanted!”

  “Can you enchant them?”

  “No, I cannot,” she said, both boys sighed and kicked the table. Runes clattered to the floor. She caught a few in her hands. “But if you become a Vestral, you can learn to enchant them yourself.”

  “Oh no, I don’t want to scowl all the time like Marius,” Devin shuddered.

  “Yeah, he’s always mad, so magic must make you mad!” Herjack said.

  “Magic doesn’t make you mad, magic is the most powerful and most wonderful thing the Gods gave to us,” Sade said her tone wistful as she stared at the runes in front of her, the magic within her stirred to life.

  “Continuing to spout nonsense, are we?” a dry voice asked. Sade didn’t have to look to know
Adora was glaring at her.

  “No, just what I overheard many a Vestral utter in my time at Plainspire,” Sade said and followed the boys out the door. Adora was close behind her.

  Sade had done her best to avoid talking to her, the woman was always asking when Sade was going to leave.

  “Ah and you continue to spout it till this day? Don’t you even think for yourself?” Adora asked as they entered the house. Esmelda was laying out a few wooden plates, and a large pot of stew bubbled in the center of the table. Despite the smell of old meat and rotting cabbage, Sade’s stomach growled with hunger.

  “Adora! If you wish to keep harassing our guest, why don’t you go live with your daughter in Lord Feildone’s castle?”

  Adora rolled her eyes. “You know very well Terina cannot have her old, disabled mother shadowing her at court while she sings her love songs. You know she told me she has caught the eye of a very handsome young man and she might sing at Queen Emira’s coronation!”

  Sade tuned her out as she began talking about her daughter’s latest achievements at court. Though she bragged, her daughter had done little to help her out. She only sent letters explaining how she must use the gold she earned to buy the latest in court fashion.

  Esmelda nodded and hummed in response to her sister as she ladled soup into Sade’s bowl. She glared at her sons when they tilted the bowls to their mouths and noisily slurped it.

  “Boys! How many times have I told you to use your spoons?” Esmelda pointed at the unused utensils. The boys set down their bowls with sheepish grins.

  “Where is Jerrick?” Sade asked.

  “Vestral Marius called for him, said he needed to go over a new order.”

  Sade frowned, that Vestral was going through more runes than Sade, and perhaps all the Vestrals at Plainspire, ever had. He even broke the sturdy stone runes she’d made at his request. She knew he was busy managing the shrine and other concerns, but to go through that many runes was odd.

  They ate in silence for a time. Sade watched as the boys slurped and kept asking for more soup. She winced when she noticed their bones were sticking out. If Esmelda noticed, she kept a brave face on while she handed them more bowls of soup.

  The door swung open and Jerrick walked over to the table, shoulders drooping as he sat down and stared at his bowl of stew.

  “Jerrick? What’s wrong?” Esmelda asked, worry etched into her features. He took a long drink before he spoke.

  “He wants us to redo the entire order, and he wants all the runes to be carved out of death wood,” Jerrick said, setting his cup down with a bit of force.

  “The entire order? That will take... at least three weeks to do,” Sade said and Jerrick nodded.

  “Why is he doing that?” Esmelda asked, waving at the door when the boys asked if they could go outside and play.

  Jerrick waited until the boys were out of earshot before he replied.

  “He said there is a group of disgruntled people faithful to the God of Justice in the area. He is preparing for the worst.”

  “Those poor people. Can you imagine if the Goddess of the Runes died?” Esmelda asked while she eyed the tiny statue of the Goddess they had placed on their mantle.

  “I don’t understand why they outlaw worship to the God. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to let them pray.”

  “When the Goddess of Peace died, they allowed people to pray to her, but they stopped when wraiths started appearing and attacking people in the temples. Those evil spirits drained the life of any pilgrim who prayed to them. To this day, the High Vestral’s aren’t sure what happened, and I would bet they don’t want it happening again,” Sade said.

  Theories abounded from the God of Death being enraged people were praying to a dead Goddess instead of him to trickster spirits trying to ascend to godhood. Before she’d been kicked out of the temple, Sade used to think it was spirits. But now she blamed the High Vestral’s for wanting to consolidate power. Who knew if the stories were even true?

  “Bah, who cares about the God of Justice!” Adora said. “We’re all starving out here. Perhaps the Goddess of the Harvest is also dead.”

  Sade ignored the voice in her head that wanted to scream the God of Justice wasn’t dead. Instead, she finished up her bowl of soup before she turned to Jerrick.

  “Why does he want death wood? From what I’ve learned, magic doesn’t care what you put it into,” she said.

  “Eh, he has a flare for the dramatic, and those who don’t work with the runes will see them made from death wood. I think Marius wants to scare them away,” Jerrick shrugged.

  That made sense to Sade, Marius was not a Vestral to the God of Death or War. The Goddess of Marriage and Family would urge him to find a more peaceful solution. Though if it didn’t work, then innocent people could die. She was going to have to find the group before Marius did. Maybe they had an idea what happened to the God of Justice.

  “The good news is I have found a new apprentice who wants to start as soon as possible. Only problem is, he can’t read,” Jerrick said. Esmelda ladled some more stew into his bowl.

  Adora shrugged. “Half the town can’t read.”

  A runesmith who couldn’t read was about as useful as a knight who didn’t know how to fight.

  Jerrick glanced at Sade. “I am more than happy to teach him how to read, but that means you won’t be able to go on your way as quickly lass.”

  “It’s all right,” Sade said, “do you want me to go out and gather the death wood as well? That way, you can get started on teaching your new apprentice how to read and we won’t lose any time.”

  Jerrick shared a knowing smile with Esmelda.

  “Sure, as long as you promise not to drink water from a death tree,” Jerrick said.

  Sade smiled back. “No, I will only drink from half-dead trees.”

  Jerrick let out a hearty laugh and Esmelda swatted him with a spoon.

  “Just don’t bring back any strays!” Adora said once Jerrick stopped laughing, “Gods know there are enough of them around here.”

  “Do you know how to shoot a bow?” Esmelda asked as she rose from the table.

  “I am not the best in the world, but I can hit something if need be.”

  Esmelda nodded and disappeared into a side room; she came out a moment later with a bow and a quiver. The bow had runes carved into its limbs. Most of the runes were a blessing said by hunters to the Goddess of the Harvest, save for one combination rune at the very end for any arrow to hit its target. No magic glittered in the rune.

  “There is a herd of wild boars roaming the forest,” Esmelda said. “You can borrow my bow.”

  “Thank you, Esmelda. I’ll see if I can find one.”

  “I haven’t had roasted boar meat in ages,” Jerrick said in between bites.

  Sade rose and took the bow from Esmelda. She excused herself from the table and headed back into the workshop. She stared at the pile of runes she had completed over the past few days. Most of the wood ones would be thrown into a fire and burned. The stone ones, however, would be harder to get rid of.

  Sade sifted through them and picked out a few runes that would aid her should she get attacked by a boar or something worse. It was too dangerous to enchant them in town; she would have to wait until she was out of the range of Marius’s magic.

  While she tossed the wood runes into the fire, she clutched the rune for the God of Justice in her free hand. The magic hummed inside of it and to her surprise the magic felt replenished.

  “God of Justice, if you can hear me, I swear I will bring down those who dare try to smother your presence in our world,” Sade whispered as she watched the flames lap at the wood.

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Sade set out in the direction Jerrick said the death trees were. Once she was clear of the town and sure she was not within range of Vestral Marius, she pulled out the runes she’d taken the night before and poured magic into them. A smile crossed her lips while she watched magic spring to life inside the lines she h
ad spent hours carving. She placed them back into her pouch, the slight hum of magic filled her senses. She felt whole again.

  The forest had completely given in to the change of seasons and the trees that were still living had orange and red leaves, so vibrant Sade could not help herself from gasping. The path before her was littered with leaves that had fallen. For a moment it looked like the land around her was not dying, then the winds blew and swept up the leaves to reveal the dead grass underneath.

  Sade adjusted the strap that held the quiver against her hip. The clattering sound of the arrows was going to drive her mad.

  She whipped out a fire rune when she heard branches snapping. Magic swirled around her like sparks, ready for her to form a fireball if needed. She pulled the magic back into the rune when she saw a mouse stare up at her, waiting for her to drop some food.

  “Sorry little one, but you must go back to town if you want scraps,” Sade said. The mouse skittered away. She shook her head, now she was talking to mice?

  She continued down the path, the trees became more lifeless and the air heavy with decay. Sade set down the bow on top of a tree trunk while she scanned the area for the death trees.

  It didn’t take long for her to find the trees with the oddly bright green leaves. Since she wasn’t desperate for water, she could see the death tree’s bark had a grayish-red tinge to it. The branches reached into the sky like shriveled hands.

  Per Jerrick’s instructions, she tugged on a pair of leather gloves that would protect her skin from the poisonous sap of the tree. She grabbed a low-hanging branch and pulled herself up. When the fabric on her shirt and trousers snagged against the bark, she made sure there was no sap stuck to her. Once she was certain her skin wasn’t going to fall off, she continued to climb up the tree. She’d been told the best wood for the runes was close to the top.