by NS Dolkart
“Magor is dying, people. The dragon Salemis burned His army. The boar is dead, and Bestillos is dead, and even the Dragon Touched seem to be coming back to life. I’m only a farmer’s son from Tarphae, but Ravennis has marked me and guided my hand, and raised me above the highest of Magor’s servants. If I were you, I’d abandon your old God – He can’t protect you in this life, and only Ravennis can save you in the next. Join us before it’s too late.”
There were murmurs among the crowd when he finished, some of them angry. But nobody had thrown anything at him, so Narky considered his speech a success. Even the angrier Ardismen were afraid of being wrong and having to face Ravennis when they died.
The priests of Magor hissed. Their spokesman said, “Nonsense. Ravennis is a dead God, slain by Magor’s hand. Two of the three Oracle priestesses were killed in Laarna, and the last has come to us here, pretending that her God still has power? We will accept your challenge, woman, and when we are done, you will be slaughtered like a lamb and bound to the doorway of the temple like your sisters were in Laarna.”
With that, the five priests raised their voices as one and cried, “O Great Magor, show these people Your power!”
Nothing happened. That was a relief – Narky had been afraid that he might get struck by lightning or something. He looked to the Graceful Servant. She wasn’t mocking the priests just yet. How long would she wait?
The ground suddenly shifted under Narky’s feet, and he stumbled back as a hole opened where he had been standing. Rats poured out. Narky hurriedly backed away from them, but they all ran at the Graceful Servant. The woman didn’t budge. Before the swarming rodents could reach her, a flock of ravens appeared as if out of nowhere and dove straight at the rats, snatching them off the ground in a cacophony of caws and squeals. People gasped and the ravens flew away over the Temple of Magor and disappeared into the city. In a battle of miracles, Ravennis had won the first skirmish.
Now the Graceful Servant raised her hands in the gesture of her God’s priestesses, her thumbs and middle fingers pointed toward each other. “O Ravennis,” she prayed, “send a message of Your power to these people.”
There was a screech from above and Narky looked up, along with everyone else, to see the frightening visage of a crow-angel hurtling down toward the temple. Like the others Narky had seen, it looked like a pale man with enormous black wings, bald and naked and sharp-toothed. The priests stumbled back as it landed on Magor’s altar, talons and pointed teeth bared.
The angel screeched at the priests again, then turned from them to address the crowd.
“Here is the Lord of Fate’s message,” it cawed, but its words were cut off as Bestillos’ successor stabbed it through the back with his spear. The angel made a horrible noise and curled in on itself, shrinking and curling until it was just an ordinary crow skewered on a spear.
“Whatever that monster meant to say,” the priest said, “I think we’re better off without it.”
Narky half expected him to be killed on the spot, but Magor must still have had at least enough power to protect him. Perhaps Narky should have expected that, but he hadn’t, and the ramifications of it still amazed him: Ravennis had provided a miracle, and the priest had effectively countered it with a pointed stick.
The Graceful Servant glared at the grinning priest. Then she raised her voice and cried, “Ravennis, if You really are the Lord of Fates and the King of the Underworld, if You are truly undefeated among the Gods, show this man – show these men their deaths. Reveal to them the manner of their demise and let them see what awaits them in the world below!”
There was a hush among the crowd, as a look of real fear came onto the priests’ faces. Then the high priest began to laugh. “How weak your God is, to be making threats He can’t act upon! I’m to kill myself with a sword three days from now, am I? Well, then. If that comes to pass, let every man of Ardis turn from Magor and worship the Crow God of Laarna. Otherwise, Servant, I will see you bound to the pillar behind me and whipped to death.”
The Graceful Servant smiled back, oozing patronizing indulgence, but for someone standing as close as Narky was, it was hard to miss the look of hatred in her eyes. “Liar,” she hissed under her breath.
His heart sank. The Graceful Servant had made a terrible mistake, one that Ravennis could not save her from. Perhaps the God of Fate had granted her request, but that couldn’t stop the priests from lying about it. Who really knew what that man had seen? There was no point in the Graceful Servant objecting to his words – an argument over what vision the priest had received was one overbalanced in his favor. He had cleverly chosen a ‘vision’ of his death that he had maximum ability to control, and now there was very little the Graceful Servant or even Ravennis Himself could do about it.
“We shall see what the coming days bring us,” the Graceful Servant said, with great poise. “Until then, make peace with your God, but turn to mine before it is too late, for it is Ravennis who will watch over you when you pass on. Farewell, doomed servants of Magor.”
They left the square, followed by a large portion of the crowd and the stares of all. Narky was trying not to panic, going over their encounter with Magor’s priests again and again. Phaedra had always insisted that men had free will, no matter how the Gods tried to manipulate them. He was starting to see her point, and to see why people were such valuable tools in the Gods’ wars. Here was an argument over which God was more powerful, an argument in which the Gods themselves had had a say, and yet it seemed like it would be won not on godly might but on human tactics. There was something darkly amusing about that. It would have been more amusing if he’d been on the winning side.
As they neared the house, the citizens who had followed them began to peel off, looking vaguely confused. The magic of the place was keeping them from finding it. Impressive. The Graceful Servant had told him about it before, without him really believing her. Now that he saw its effect on the citizenry, he had to admit that it was pretty amazing.
By the time they arrived, there were only five of them: Narky, the Graceful Servant, Taedron, Ptera, and Magara. A pair of lamps flared as they entered, bathing the room in warm light. They closed the door fast behind them.
“That went well,” Narky said. “What the hell do we do now?”
“The high priest lied,” the Graceful Servant said, explaining to the others what had already been obvious to Narky. “He was never supposed to kill himself, and certainly not this week. Ravennis should never have let him speak like that.”
She sat down and sank her head in her hands. “I am to blame for this reversal: I told Ravennis what I wanted instead of offering myself as a vessel for His power, and the priest of Magor took advantage of my poor choice. If I had trusted in Ravennis to provide a miracle of His choosing, this would not have happened.”
“Sure,” Narky said, “but what’s our plan now? That priest out-thought us, and now it’s going to look like Ravennis has no power here. I don’t suppose we can force him to kill himself?”
The Graceful Servant shook her head. “It is time for you to leave us, Narky. Tonight, before our enemies can move to stop you. Your part here is done for now, and if both of us are martyred at once, the church of Ravennis will have no leadership. I am ordaining you as a priest, to be high priest after my death. Go to Anardis, and convert that city to the worship of our God.”
Anardis. The City of Elkinar. A city that had blamed the “cursed islanders” for its bad luck; a city that Narky and his friends had been forced to flee before its people could deliver them into the hands of their enemies. Surely, Narky was the worst-suited messenger for bringing the Lord of Fate’s message to Anardis.
Not that he had any intention of switching tasks with the Graceful Servant.
“Why Anardis?” he asked instead. “Why not some other city? Why not Atuna?”
The Graceful Servant looked astounded, as if Narky’s question was too foolish to be believed. She asked, “What greater symbol is th
ere of Magor’s power than that tributary city, the city that the red priest brought to its knees last year? To lose Anardis is to lose all semblance of worldly power, to be truly isolated and confined to one city. Ardis does not have the strength to put down a second rebellion: though Bestillos burned half the city, the walls of Anardis still stand. Without Magor’s chosen as its high priest, Ardis no longer has the power of intimidation on its side. You will be safe there.”
“And you? Will you really stay behind here and let the priests of Magor flay you?”
The Graceful Servant nodded, her eyes glowing. “Of course. What have I to fear? The priests of Magor can only hurt my body for a short time. My God will reward me forever.”
Her faith and her confidence were astounding. Narky had to wonder whether he would ever show the kind of serenity she did in the face of certain death. Somehow, he highly doubted it.
“How can I even get out of this city?” he asked. “I can’t exactly slip out unrecognized.”
“One of the night watchmen is a man of the faith,” the Graceful Servant replied. “He will let you out without raising an alarm.”
“And how will I know which one is him?”
“I will go with you,” Ptera said. “He was one of my husband’s friends – I know him well. I converted him and his family.”
“Take Ptera with you to Anardis,” the Graceful Servant said. “Those who stay with me may well perish. Ptera’s a clever girl, and her faith is strong. The Keeper of Fates needs her in this world for now.”
Narky scratched above his bad eye uncomfortably. “That’s… I mean, a man and a woman, traveling together without being married… it’s not like I can tell people we’re related.”
The Graceful Servant smiled patronizingly at him. “I never suggested such an arrangement. Take Ptera as your wife. She has already told me she’s willing.”
Narky looked back and forth between them, unable to register his shock. When had they had this conversation? Why hadn’t he been involved?
He had thought himself oversensitive to flirtation – after all, he had once thought himself in love just because a girl had been nice to him. Back then, he had built up each conversation in his mind and imbued every word and glance with far more meaning and emotion than they deserved. Narky had confronted that girl’s lover, and eventually murdered him, all because he had taken her unexpected friendliness far too seriously.
But there had been no flirtation here, not that he had detected. So when, exactly, had Ptera told the Graceful Servant that she was willing to marry him? Narky would like to have known how that topic had even come up between the two of them. And, nerves aside, he wished he knew how he felt about the whole thing. It was too shocking for him to process.
“I…” he said.
“You will do as I say,” the Graceful Servant answered, cutting him off. “You will marry Ptera, and together you will go to Anardis to spread Ravennis’ teachings. Our God will guide you once you are there; you will know when the time is right to return. Ardis will be His before the year is out.”
“And you…”
“I will be with Ravennis. Don’t worry, you will see. My martyrdom will change everything in this city – it will open a path for you. By the time you return, Ardis will be begging to hear your holy words.”
Narky nodded, though the voice in his head remained stubbornly skeptical. How could the loss of their God’s prophet change anything for the better? Why should Ardis clamor for Narky’s teachings after they had tortured and humiliated the Graceful Servant, even up to her death?
And what the hell were his teachings, anyway?
15
Hunter
Hunter had no chance to struggle – the sailors were holding his arms too tight. If he had known what they were planning… but then, he still didn’t understand what was going on.
“What curse?” he asked them. “What are you talking about?”
“Your God won’t let us leave this damned backwater island!” one of them answered. “Every time we weigh anchor, a tempest keeps blowing us to shore. We almost got shipwrecked this last time, so the captain says, ‘Find those two kids from Tarphae and bring them back. Their God doesn’t want us leaving this place without them.’”
Hunter looked over at Phaedra. Well, that answered that question: God Most High wasn’t going to make them wait for another ship or even pay for their passage. It was a shame for Phaedra that the crew had found them so quickly, but then, it would have been too cruel to force these men to stay here a fortnight while the two of them shucked oysters and watched an old woman cook her meals and wash her clothes and take naps. For all that Phaedra might be developing very interesting theories about how magic worked, he was glad it hadn’t taken the sailors too long to find them. He was even a bit relieved.
Now if only they’d stop squeezing his arms like that.
“Please let go,” Phaedra begged. “You’re hurting me.”
The sailors who were holding her obeyed, and even Hunter’s captors eased up a little. “We’re coming with you,” Hunter told them. “You don’t have to drag us.”
They went along meekly, Hunter supporting Phaedra on the uneven ground. If only her ankle hadn’t been shattered on Mount Galadron, when they were unknowingly risking their lives to explore a giant ant hole. If only he or the others had known how to set it before it healed wrong. If only he hadn’t said that thing about never dancing again.
They eventually reached the dock and were rowed back to the ship. The captain looked relieved to see them, but his relief soon turned to anger as he was finally able to vent his frustration and fear.
“We should have left you in Atuna, you wretches! You may as well be pirates, the way you’ve hijacked my ship!”
“I’m sorry,” Hunter said. “We didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know,” the captain repeated, disgusted. “Well, we’re never letting you on shore again. Not on this voyage. Not until you can assure me that your God will leave us alone! If we can’t have fair weather without you on board, we’re just going to have to make you stay. I don’t care if I have to chain you to the mast; you’re not leaving my ship.”
Phaedra said something, to which the captain barked, “What’s that? If you have something to say, girl, speak up!”
“I said I wouldn’t recommend that.”
The captain’s face went red. “Are you threatening me?”
“No,” Phaedra said. “I’m saying that we don’t control our God – He controls us. We had no idea God Most High would keep you here, and we have no idea where He wants us to go next, but I’m pretty certain that wherever we’re meant to go, He’s going to guide us there. If you try to control our movements instead of taking us wherever our God wants us to be, He’s going to find another way. I don’t mean to threaten you, but I can’t believe that God Most High would take enough of an interest to force you to wait here for us without getting offended if you imprison us. I don’t even know why He’s taken such an interest in our voyage, but He clearly has. If you would treat your own Gods with caution and respect, you should treat ours with double.”
The captain struck her across the face with the back of his hand, and she fell to the deck. Immediately, the hands of the crewmembers seized Hunter’s arms to restrain him. It shouldn’t have been necessary: Hunter knew full well how precarious his position was. He had wanted to help Phaedra up, not retaliate. But the crew pulled him back, and Phaedra was forced to climb to her feet by herself.
The captain had the look of a man who knew he had crossed a line. He was clearly terrified of what God Most High might do to him, and at the same time giddy with the freedom of transgression. With that blow, his logic had changed dangerously: God Most High might well punish him, but if He meant to do so, there was little the captain could do about it. That meant his fear couldn’t control him any longer.
Phaedra, on the other hand, was all control. Though tears were streaming down her cheeks as she struggled back to
her feet, her voice was level and strong. “I don’t know if my God will punish you for that,” she said, “but I will pray that He doesn’t. I’ve seen what happens when Gods punish men.”
“Your God won’t sink this ship with you on it,” the captain answered. “As soon as the other search parties return, we’ll be back to our regular trade route. It should be an easier voyage than usual, what with your God keeping the bad weather at bay.”
The man’s bluster was enough to enrage anyone, but Phaedra remained calm. If anything she grew calmer, and her look was one of pity, not anger.
“I’m sorry we’ve brought trouble to you and your crew,” she said. “I don’t want to see anything bad happen because of the way you’ve treated us. Please believe me that it’s not too late to repent. We have a friend who lives today because of the power of his atonement.”
The captain looked tempted, hopeful, relieved. Then his expression hardened. “It’s thoughtful of you to say so,” he said. “I’ll make a sacrifice at our next port.”
He turned away. “Put them below.”
And just like that, they were confined below deck for the rest of the voyage. Days went by as the ship went from port to port, trading goods for coin and other goods. The crew brought them food and took their waste, treating them with embarrassed deference. At the first major port, half of them left the ship. The others told Hunter and Phaedra that they meant to do the same soon – they respected the islanders and their God, and didn’t want to wait to see what would happen to the ship and its captain. But for Hunter and Phaedra, this only made the voyage worse. Each crewman who left was replaced with one who didn’t know the prisoners’ story, and didn’t have any cause to fear God Most High. As the captain grew bolder, his crew only grew more obedient, and by the start of the third week, he and the cook were the only original crewmembers who remained.