“I am unsure,” she said, “I admit I was busy trying to save your father.”
Felix remembered the men and woman who had circulated in and out of the castle. Each one claimed they had a cure for whatever ailed his father, and each one left with their dignity and reputation destroyed. His mother had not given up; she was probably the only one in the kingdom who had believed his father would recover.
“Did you ever... discover what was ailing him?”
“No, though I have my suspicions.” She leaned forward and traced the rune for the Spirit of the Realm in the dust. Felix raised an eyebrow and she swiftly erased it.
“Are you sure?”
“No, but like I said. I have my suspicions.”
Silence settled between them. The sounds of distant prayers from the shrines drifted through the air.
“Felix, I think you should accept the position the Queen has offered. Do not let the time you spent defending Sodervia go to waste. With the Queen’s help, you might regain favor in the realm and rebuild our house from the ashes. You must continue our bloodline; I don’t want it to die with me.”
Felix’s eyes narrowed. “I will not marry Lady Janel.”
“No, I want you to aim higher. The Queen is unmarried...”
Felix sighed; of course his mother would have other motives for him to join the Royal Council.
“Mother, we are on the brink of war and you are thinking of marriage?”
His mother smiled wistfully.
“I only wish to see you secure and happy; you are getting older. A battlefield is not a home and you are the last of your father’s line unless you have some bastard children running about?” His mother raised an eyebrow and Felix shook his head. “Then forgive me, but yes I care about your future.”
“Mother,” Felix gritted his teeth, “I will not court the Queen.”
His mother waved her hand as if she were dismissing a servant. “Then think on what I have said. I hope you choose wisely my son.”
She rose and kissed the top of his head before she left. Blending into the shadows of the room like a ghost.
Felix rested his head against the stone. He tilted his head so he could stare at the ceiling. The moon had disappeared behind a few clouds. The darkness allowed the silver runes etched into the glass to glow. It was a prayer for the dead to have safe passage to the underworld. A part of him wished he would get exiled so he would not have to deal with this bloody kingdom anymore. But the faces of those who had lost everything flashed through his mind. Could he truly live his life in peace knowing he had not made a real difference? A chance to make amends for not only his mistakes, but his father’s and grandfather’s?
He watched the sky lighten as the sun began its daily trek. He rose from the floor, his joints aching from the cold. The stone had sucked all warmth from his bones. He turned to face the stone coffin; the chiseled face of his father stared at the ceiling.
No, he would not run away like a coward. He would fix the messes made and do whatever needed to be done to protect the kingdom and the Crown. He would not let his father’s legacy tarnish his own.
He made his way to the great door, two guards greeted him. Once they made it out of the mausoleum, they headed toward the great bridge, but a small group of nobles standing in the front of the temple doors caught Felix’s eye. Much to his horror he heard Lady Janel’s laughter as he walked past; thankfully, her back was turned to him. Also present were Lord Rover and Lady Ethelbright, which meant the Queen was at the shrines.
“Do you mind if I take a moment to leave an offering at the God of Death’s altar? I wanted to ensure my father’s soul is at peace.”
The guards glanced at each other then back at Felix with a look of pity. Felix felt his stomach churn. He did not need their sympathy.
“I don’t see why not,” one guard said and led Felix into the altar hall. A few nobles expressed their displeasure when he passed by, but none stopped them. He heard Lord Rover yell something about letting him grieve in peace.
A small table, laden with bread, gold and various other trinkets had been placed by the door. A line of Vestrals stood against the wall where no statues stood; the runes in their cloaks shimmered when the torchlight hit them. Felix grabbed a loaf of bread and a few coins from the table. Normally one was supposed to come with something of their own, but the table was there in case one had forgotten or was in a hurry.
The hall that held the shrines was the largest building in the kingdom, three glass dome ceilings were held up by delicate twisting arches, so fine that only magic could have carved them. Each altar had a little alcove nestled between columns and each God and Goddess had a statue taller than any living man. A stained-glass window was the only source of color in the temple, even the fabrics that draped on the altars had been changed to the mourning banners.
He passed the statue of the Spirit of the Realm. The altar was strewn with offerings of grain and bread. The statue was a lot bigger than he remembered; it used to reside along the wall the Vestrals were standing at. Why had it been moved into the center of the room?
His gaze fell upon the altar of the Goddess of Harvest, which was adorned with a single dead flower. He grabbed another loaf of bread from the offering table and placed it on the Goddess of the Harvest’s altar.
“What are you doing?” a Vestral cried and ran over. He tried snatch the bread from the altar, but Felix grabbed his arm. The two intertwined circle runes on their cloak marked them as a Lesser Vestral serving the Spirit of the Realm. The runes glowed red, but Felix pushed them away anyway. Magic was forbidden in these sacred halls, something the Vestral seemed to remember since his runes returned to their dull silver.
“How dare you take my offering away from the altar,” he said using the stern tone he used on unruly soldiers.
“The Goddess deserves punishment for the trials she has given us!” the Vestral said, his eyes bulged and a vein on his forehead popped out. Felix readied himself for the Vestral to swing at him, but no attack came as another Vestral stormed over. Her pale hair was pulled back into a long braid that nearly touched the floor. He wondered how she did not trip. Her cloak was embroidered with runes that looked like small shafts of wheat encircled by vines. A Vestral for the Goddess of the Harvest.
“No, she doesn’t deserve punishment! It is not her fault! It is ours!” she exclaimed.
While the two Vestrals began hurling more insults at each other, the other Vestrals made their way over. Felix looked around for the Queen.
He made his way around the statue over to the statue of the God of the Dead. The lantern in his stone grip had a small candle inside it. Unlike the other statues, whose faces could be seen clearly, the God of the Dead’s face had a veil obscuring his features. No man or women alive knew his face, not even the Vestrals who served him, for to know the God of Death’s face, meant you were longer among the living.
The Queen was kneeling in front of the altar and he heard the clink of small coins on stone. He knelt beside her, but the Queen did not look at him. Instead, she kept her gaze firmly on the statue. At first, he thought she might be praying for his father, but he noticed there was smoked fish on the altar. His father hated fish of any kind.
“I am sorry for your loss,” he said, placing the bread and coins he brought onto the altar.
“And I am sorry for yours,” the Queen replied and tucked a necklace into a pouch hidden in her cloak. Her hand hovered over it for a moment, like she was gathering strength. Felix felt no magic swirling around her.
“Why are you here?” she asked after a long moment.
“I accept your offer, Your Majesty,” he said. She smiled, a gesture that quickly turned into a frown.
“Lady Ethelbright is just outside; you could have told her.”
“I believe in making promises in person, not by messenger.”
The Queen glanced around; her frown deepened at the sight of no Vestrals watching them. A loud crash resounded through the building at
the sounds of an altar smashing into stone. They both rose and ran over to the source of the sound. The altar to the Goddess of the Harvest was in pieces.
“What in the name of the Goddess of the Sea is going on?” the Queen shouted, the sharpness in her tone making Felix step back a pace. The Vestrals froze and pointed at Felix. The Vestral for the Spirit of the Realm sauntered forward with a smirk.
“He started it! He gave bread to the Goddess of the Harvest!”
The Queen glanced at Felix; her face was dark red with fury. He braced himself for a lecture, but she turned her attention back to the Vestrals.
“Since when is it illegal to offer bread to the bloody Goddess of the Harvest?” her voice rose, causing the Vestrals around her to wince. The Vestral to the Spirit of the Realm held his head high.
“By the orders of the High Vestral herself.”
Felix would have loved to wipe the smirk off the Vestral’s face. It was clear he held neither regard or respect for the Crown nor, it seemed, the Gods.
“Do not blame them, Your Majesty. I have been away from court for a long time. Do not bring the ire of the Spirit of the Realm upon you further.” He knelt and glanced up at her. Her face was a mixture of anger and confusion. She stared at him for a long moment before the anger in her face receded.
“Clean it up and fix the altar. I will speak to the High Vestral about your behavior,” the Queen said then stormed out of the temple. Felix followed slowly, and Lord Rover fell into step with him. The nobles around them hurried after the Queen.
“What have you done now?” Lord Rover asked.
“Nothing. I accepted the Queen’s offer and tried to present a proper offering to the Goddess of the Harvest,” Felix said.
Lord Rover’s eyes narrowed.
“Gods above Felix, what are you planning on doing?”
“Don’t be alarmed, Lord Rover. I promise I will be on my best behavior,” he smiled. Once they reached the entrance to the castle, the guards moved beside him.
“I hope you know what you are doing!” Lord Rover shouted as he disappeared behind a corner.
“So, do I,” Felix muttered to himself.
15
Devastation And Revelations
“NO, NO THIS WILL NOT do,” Henry said. He held a rune up in the sunlight.
“Why in the names of all the Gods won’t it?” Sade asked, placing her hands on her hips. They were standing outside the village temple as Henry carried out his duties. Well, he was supposed to be, but he was nitpicking the runes Sade had just finished carving.
“Because it’s... death wood,” Henry said. Sade felt a jolt of surprise.
“How do you know what death wood is?”
“Stop trying to distract me from the fact that you carved a rune for calm into wood that is used for poison!”
“I have removed all properties that would cause any adverse reaction,” Sade said calmly.
“I want new ones,” Henry said, tossing the rune back at her.
Sade clenched and unclenched her fists; it would do her no good to start a fight with him. She shoved the rune into the small bag the rest of them were in.
“No, this is the second time I have carved all of those runes. I will not do it a third time,” Sade pointed at the small temple, “I have been spending more time cleaning up the shrines than anything else!”
Henry nodded. “I know and I thank you for it. This damn village is more demanding than anything I did at Plainspire. I have spent days trying to cure a woman’s foot problems, even though I’m not a Vestral to the Goddess of Healing!”
“That is the role of a Vestral, Henry. I will not make any new runes for you,” Sade said and shoved the bag of runes at him. Henry’s shoulders drooped, but he didn’t protest further.
“Fine, but don’t blame me when the magic does things it’s not supposed to,” Henry muttered.
“How do you know anything about death wood?” Sade asked. Henry pulled out a few runes and shoved them into his pouch.
“How do you not know anything about death wood?” Henry retorted, dropping his voice. “I know you think less of me, because I haven’t been a Vestral for as long as you have, but that doesn’t make me a fool.”
“I never said that!”
“You do in how you speak to me like I’m a child instead of a grown man,” he snapped, his expression hardening as he watched something behind Sade. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go help a farmer with his cow.”
With that he stormed off, his magic swirling around him like an angry beehive. Sade sighed and headed back to the rune workshop. She had promised Jerrick she would start teaching his new apprentice how to carve runes. On the way there, Corin stepped out of the shadows and walked beside her.
“Is everything all right with our new Vestral?” he asked.
Sade shrugged. “He’s overwhelmed. In Plainspire he was one of a dozen Vestrals serving the Goddess of Spring, and now he’s alone in a village that should have at least three Vestrals.”
“And he still hasn’t removed the statue for the God of Justice?” Corin looked back at the temple with a concerned expression.
“No, he hasn’t. I told you before what he said to me. Henry may act like a fool, but he is one who keeps his promises.”
Corin nodded. “Good, then I can promise you he will be kept safe when the time comes to act. I have received word the Queen has brokered a peace treaty with the Western Marshes.”
Sade smiled, relief sweeping through her. Corin, however, looked like he’d been given a bitter tonic.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you want peace?”
“My sources tell me something dark is brewing, but they are not sure what. The High Vestral has locked herself in the room with the Spirit of the Realm; she only comes out to eat. Only the Gods know what she is doing to that poor Spirit,” Corin’s voice trembled with anger.
“Are you going to do something about it?”
“The timing isn’t right.”
“Then why are you getting so upset about it?”
Corin’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Magic surged around him like a raging river.
“If you knew the things that could be done to Spirits, then you wouldn’t be so calm either,” he said and stopped walking when Sade turned onto the path that led to the workshop.
“Why won’t you tell me?” Sade asked. Magic flared within her, causing the runes in her pouch to bounce around. She placed a hand over it to keep them from flying out.
“Because you do not need to be burdened with such things; I will need your mind clear for the tasks ahead.”
No matter how many times she asked, he still wouldn’t tell her what she was supposed to do. A part of her was wondering if he was just playing tricks with her. Giving her false hopes that she could help the kingdom.
“There must be something you can tell me.”
“The only thing I can say is that you must prepare your magic and your mind. For in the coming days, it will be tested like never before,” Corin said before he slunk back into the shadows. She tried to follow but stopped when Jerrick called out to her from the workshop.
“Sade? Are you coming, lass? Ferdi is ready!”
Sade made her way into the workshop, where a young boy with pale blonde hair was sitting at the table. He smiled, and Sade noted he was missing a few teeth, but he had an eagerness in his eyes that showed he was ready to learn.
Sade could not help but smile back as she walked over and sat next to him. At least this was something she could help with.
BY THE END OF THE DAY, Sade’s hands were sore from carving. Though his carvings were crude and lacked flourish, Ferdi was proving to be a quick study. The boy had a steady hand and would be ready to go in no time at all.
Sade was showing him how to combine two words together to form a single combine rune. When she heard Jerrick shout with alarm from outside the workshop.
She opened the door and saw a bright orange blaze of fire lapping
on the roof of the house across the street. Villagers were hurrying over with buckets of water. It was then Sade noticed half the town was on fire. She ran over to Jerrick as she covered her mouth with her hand, trying to not breathe in the hot ashes.
“What is going on?” she asked when Jerrick handed her an empty bucket.
“I don’t know, but if we don’t act fast the entire village is going to burn down.”
Sade ran to the well, following Jerrick. The frantic villagers around them started throwing handfuls of dirt at the fires around them.
“Where is the Vestral?” a man shouted as he ran from the temple.
“He is helping a farmer with their cows,” Sade replied. She hoisted up the well’s bucket and poured water into her own. Once full, she grabbed it and threw water at the nearest building that was on fire. The fire sputtered for a moment then roared back to life. Bucket after bucket, but the flames would not go out.
“Look out!” a villager screamed as a large piece of burning wood fell to the ground. The air was becoming heavy with smoke and Sade was struggling to catch her breath.
A building collapsed in a pile of red embers, sending a hot stream of fire and ash into the air. Sade dove to the ground, clutching her bucket to her chest. Her magic flared within her, warning her of dangerous magic nearby.
Sade stood up and looked over to see a few men lying on the ground, screaming in agony from the intense heat.
The flames leapt from building to building. No matter how much water the villagers threw on it, the flames never died. Sade reached into to her rune pouch and called forth a rune of seeking. She clutched the rune in her hand and sent a small trail of magic into the flames.
The flames answered with searing heat. An invisible force shoved Sade’s magic back into her rune. More screams filled the air, Sade watched Jerrick began running back to his house. The air was becoming thick with hot ashes; she swiped an ember from her pants as she grabbed another bucket of water.
The Spirit of the Realm Page 18