Spirit Followers

by Lydia Redwine

  “Where the hell is Glista?” her mind demanded. “If she did this…”

  From the shadows, emerged a man, tall and broad, dressed in a long black robe. A diamond glittered on his chest. Terror rose within Cam, and she stumbled back. She gasped with more horror when she saw a second figure appear behind him. Barak. What was going on? A million questions rushed through her mind at once. For a moment she hesitated, trying to make sense of the situation. The next moment she turned and ran…

  And nearly collided with the shining edge of a knife held in midair.

  Her racing heart plummeted when she saw the person holding it. Glista. Her usual flirtatious expression was replaced with a cold look of pure hatred. She smirked at Cam. “Not so fast,” she said, spitting each word at Cam. She pressed the point of a blade to her chest. “Where do you think you’re going? I hope not to bed. I have somewhere we should go.” Her words were no longer flirtatious but sinister and taunting.

  “Glista what’s going on? Why are you-” Cam could not finish the sentence, for she was at a loss for words. “I knewyou were lying when you came to me.”

  Glista laughed. "I'm not who you think I am, am I?" She paused for a moment, looking Cam in the eyes with an icy cold stare. Cam had saved this girl's life, and now she was turning on her. Why? "Why don't my friends and I take you and your little man up north?" She jerked Cam around and tied her arms behind her back. The ropes bit into her wrists, and she winced in pain. Peter looked at her, despair filling his eyes. Glista's two friends held him in an iron grip.

  Up north? It could only mean Glista was taking them to Gnosi. But how could she be a traitor? She had completely blindsided Cam. “You can’t do this Glista! You know this isn’t right!” Her words became desperate screams.

  “They won’t hear you,” Glista said, indicating those underground. “They won’t beableto help youCamaria.” Sheturned her around again so she could once again be confronted by her wicked eyes burning right through her.

  Glista turned to accept another blade from Barak. She slipped both blades into the belt swinging from her hips. This was when Cam allowed herself to fully scan Glista’s new seemingly appearance. For a brief moment, she took note of the fitted, teal leather, fur collars and linings, concealing hood, array of weaponry, and last of all…the ink drawing on her neck. It wasn’t a dove like Cam had seen on others, but a curling figure much like a snake.

  Glista broke into Cam’s silent question regarding the marking. “They can’tsave thedovesfrombeingslain.I’msurprisedyoudidn’t awaken whileIleft thewarning.” Cam gaspedin horror andthenext instant blacked out.

  Thirty-Two

  Cam felt as if her shoulder blade had shattered when she collided

  with a hard, stone wall. She cried as Peter was hurled in after her. His head clashed against the stone before Cam could think to catch him. He sagged and dropped to the floor. Cam's head and shoulder throbbed mercilessly, and her legs were numb. Her brain worked in an effort to draw a logical conclusion from the recent events. All she knew was that during the darkness of the night, she awakened and discovered she was being dragged to a dungeon in the lowest level of the Gnosi Realm castle. Fortunately, she and Peter had been placed in the same cell.

  Her almost frozen feet gave way beneath her, and she sank onto the floor next to Peter, who was shivering violently. His clothing was thin and apparently had been worn to bed. Cam’s ropes had slipped off, and her hands were freed. She untied Peter’s and removed the gag from his mouth. Panting breaths escaped him as his head sank towards the floor. Cam caught it in her hands and laid it gently in her lap. She stroked his head and found a large bump where he must have been hit to be knocked out. Cam had one too.

  “It is going to be okay. It is going to be okay. Are you jesting, Camaria? We’re locked in a cell after a psychotic princess kidnapped us!” Cam’s mind rambled on as she moved to examine both her and Peter’s wounds.

  An ache bloomed in her chest the sight of his face. When Cam had found a wad of straw and had placed it beneath his head, Peter drifted into sleep. She lay next to him so as to share in his remaining warmth. The stone floor was arguably the most uncomfortable place she had ever slept. But at least she knew where Peter was. It would be worse in separate cells with no knowledge of his well-being.

  “You have to be okay, Peter. You must.” Her mind asked her a question. “Why?” She answered. “Because if he is not, then I am alone.”

  The thumping of feet and loud whispering brought Cam to full

  attention after a fitful sleep. She sat up and groaned, for her body ached in every part. She glanced through the long bars of the cell, and through her blurred vision, a figure was seen standing there with her hands wrapped around the bars. "Cam! Cam!" the girl whispered in a hoarse voice when she saw that Cam had awakened. Shear despair crossed Saffira's face when she saw Peter lying in a helpless heap.

  A sharp pang shot through Cam’s legs as if she had stepped on daggers when she scurried up from the floor. She gasped as she reached forward to grasp Saffira’s hand.

  “Are you okay?”

  Cam nodded. “Define okay…”

  “And Peter?”

  “I -I,” Cam glanced towards the young man on the cell floor. He hadn’t stirred since he had fallen asleep. “I don’t know.” Tears pressed into Cam’s eyes. Saffira reached her hand through the bars and touched her shoulder. Her countenance was draped in concern. “I came as soon as I heard. The guards upstairs were talking…and, I saw her…the princess or whoever the hell she is. Or thinks she is.”

  Cam opened her mouth as to ask, “Have the guards taken her too?” But she remembered that Glista had come into this place with ease, no one stopping her.

  “Is there any way to escape?” Cam inquired aloud. "Not now, the doors are too guarded. I promise to help, though. I will come back."

  “Why are we here, Saffira? What are they going to do to us?”

  “Shhhh,” Saffira said in an effort to calm Cam down. “I don’t know yet. I’ll try to find out! I promise. Just, just please keep Peter alive.” Cam nodded vigorously though she could not think how she could help Peter with no resources.

  Saffira squeezed her hand one last time before turning to leave. Cam knew that they could not be caught conversing or Saffira would become a prisoner as well. Tears dripped from Cam's eyes as she watched the young woman disappear down the dimly lit corridor. Though her hope was small, Cam knew there was a chance she would make it out alive. She turned around slowly in the cell, wondering if Peter had the same chance -if any chance at all.

  Three hours later, Saffira slipped a cold cloth into the cell along

  with a plate of food without saying a single word. It was only a hunk of moldy cheese and a piece of stale bread, but it was food nevertheless. A cup of water was also provided. Cam desired it for her parched throat but left it for Peter.

  He stirred when Cam pressed the cold cloth to his bruised brow. His eyes opened slowly, and he looked at her blankly for a moment before recognition crossed his expression. “Cam…” he rasped. “Where are we?” He attempted to sit up.

  “Shh,” Cam pu shed his head back into her lap. Tear stains streaked her face as she lifted the cup of water to his lips. He gratefully gulped it down before insisting that she explain.

  During the middle of the day, Peter seemed to be doing better. He sat against the wall, thinking, his hands fidgeting with pieces of straw. Cam leaned against the stone wall and gazed out of the window. It was almost too high for her to see out of, and there was only one window in their cell which overlooked the river outside where she could see several of the Realm inhabitants traveling by small boats. They were headed to a council assembly where Saffira had gone to discover the facts of their imprisonment, assuming Apollyon spoke of the incident.

  Occasionally, Cam heard the clanging of chamber pots and a foul smell drifted through the passages. Grunts accompanied it and sometimes wailing cries. She wondered how many people were impr
isoned here.

  She wrapped her hands around the window’s bars and pulled herself closer so she could gain a better view. The day seemed as though it were not day at all. It seemed as if dusk had fallen upon the sky and remained.

  Passing before her, almost twenty feet away, was a male figure. He walked slowly, looking at the ground. Riah. Cam's lips parted to utter his name, but she was not sure she wanted him to know she was here. Besides, how could she expect him to help her if he was Apollyon's son, the one whom she was against, the one who had wanted to kill her ever since her previous time here? Riah's eyes drifted from the ground and to her window cell, catching sight of her. His gaze locked with hers.

  Recognition came first, then a flicker of hesitation. What was he battling? Cam summoned a pleading expression into her eyes. Riah held her gaze for a moment before turning slowly away. Her heart sank. She had hoped at one point in time that they could be friends, but not like this, not when they were on opposing sides.

  “I wish the man would stop crying,” Peter groaned as another yelp erupted from down the passage. It sounded as if someone was being whipped and was crying for help. Except, there was no snapping of such a device. Cam winced regardless, imagining the pain. She nodded and changed the subject.

  "Peter, where do you think Cole is? Do you think they captured him like they did us?"

  “I don’t know,” Peter replied somberly. “Why won’t you call him your father?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know that I am ready to call him that yet.” She paused, wondering how to explain. “I lived my whole life without knowing him and then all of a sudden I am expected to embrace him with open arms.” Her words ceased once more as she leaned against the wall and stared absentmindedly through the bars. “He didn’t seem to love when he gave me into the hands of traitors.” Anger boiled within her. Nevertheless, she knew the statement was unfair. “It wasn’t like he knew they were traitors. And perhaps they weren’t back then.”

  Peter was calm, however, almost relaxed. “He was always kind to me.”

  "Except you aren't his daughter who he gave away. He didn’t come back for me when the rebellion was over." she retorted. For a moment, Peter remained silent. He simply looked at her, his eyes soft and steadily resting upon her. Not in a lustful or critical way, just in a curious, simple manner.

  “Think about it, Cam,” he said finally as he watched his own foot scrape the floor.

  “Think about what?” she demanded more stiffly than she had intended.

  “I mean if your father had kept you, where would you be now?” This compelled Cam to think, to scrutinize the situation in a way she had never thought about it before.

  “Your sisters for instance,” Peter suggested. “Imagine never knowing them. I think some of the best relationships you have are with your sisters, at least from what I’veseen with your interactions with them.” He was right of course. Her sisters were the closest people to her, and she couldn’t imagine having a childhood without them.

  “If your father had keptyou,” continued Peter. “You could have died, when they hunted us down; when they drove the survivors to the Black Mountains. As for after the rebellion...well, Amelia told him not to come back.”

  Cam blanched, but Peter waved a hand before she could make a further reaction. “Not because she wanted you separated. But...because you had sisters. And Amelia knew how valuable it is to have sisters.” Peter’s gaze grew faraway, a smile lifting his lips.

  Cam gazed at him. He had experienced the Spirit Follower rebellion almost first hand. He knew what the danger had been. Perhaps…

  “He wishes you had had my lot,” Cam thought. He beckoned Cam to be seated next to him. She crossed the length of the cell and sat beside him.

  “Around fifteen years ago, half of the ruling body believed that the realms had fallen apart, that there was no longer unity and that to regain and maintain such unity they needed to once again see the purpose of following the Spirit of Elyon. The remaining royals, as you know, discovered them. Since the Spirit Followers were a threat to the way they were ruling them, they sought to rid the nation of them. There were several in the realms, including my father who began a company of our people dedicated to spreading their beliefs to others who did not know. Three years after the Spirit Followers began their mission, the rest of the Royals took their own actions. Most of the Spirit Followers were killed, others fled. My mother, sister, and I were not discovered.” Peter shut his eyes, and Cam sensed he was attempting to prevent tears.

  His voice was shaky when he spoke his next words. “My father died when I was five years old. Mother told me to flee, to go with the other Spirit Followers to the Black Mountains. Your father befriended me. He was the kindest, bravest man I had ever met.”

  “My father, brave?” Cam inquired. Peter gazed into her eyes with a hint of disappointment in his expression.

  “You know, just because someone doesn’t appear to be brave doesn't mean they lack bravery. You, for instance, you don't look brave, at all. Not at first glance anyway. But when I saw what you did for your friends, sisters, and even for your homeland, I saw bravery like your father's." Peter paused. There wasn't much Cam could think to say. He words were true, but the prickles of pride prevented her from admitting it aloud.

  “Bravery isn’t about not being afraid of things because not having any fear is impossible. One either fears Elyon or men. Bravery is when you're willing to sacrifice yourself for someone else, sacrifice everything you have for the right cause. Your father did that. He left everything behind, including his own daughter to serve Elyon because that's what he felt was right. He raised me because I had no family. Our life in the Black Mountains was difficult beyond your knowledge, but your father never complained, and the whole time, I was thinking how he could have been better off living in royalty with his daughter. Do you not see, Cam? You're the one thing he in this world he loved most, and he had to give you away especially after..."

  “After what?”

  “Well, your mother’s death. She too was murdered during the attack on the Spirit Followers.”

  Peter’s face was sincere, his voice persistent, and Cam did not know how to reply.

  “I didn’t know any of that,” she finally said. Peter’s eyes were fixated on the wall before them, and his breath was slow and steady.

  “How did Amelia and Cole know each other?”

  Peter turned to her with a slightly surprised expression. “You haven’t figured it out?” Cam shook her head, frowning. Peter laughed, the sound making his eyes light up. “Amelia’s your aunt, Cam. She was your mother’s sister. She went to work in Medulla so she could protect you, so she could nominate you for the election; so you could become Royal and come to know the full extent of your past.”

  For a moment, Cam only felt shock but began to see how everything fit together.

  She and Peter sat for a long moment in silence.

  Cam lips parted as Peter nudged her with his shoulder. “What are you thinking?” He grinned. “I just gave a speech and you say nothing?”

  “A little shocked, as I should be, don’t you think?” she shot back.

  His chuckle was warm.

  “No…” Cam started. “I was just thinking about how I’ve never thought of the Spirit Followers as bad people.”

  “Why?” Peter prodded.

  Cam drew in a long breath that felt sharp against her lungs. “Because my sister...Terra believed they were good.”

  Thirty-Three

  Thenumber one question on Riah’s mind was: Why the hell was

  Lady Camaria prisoner in Gnosi? This question bounced in his brain as he made his way to a remote building with one massively extensive room used for the council of Gnosi. Apollyon spent many a day in this building, conducting meetings regarding the welfare of his realm. Riah was hardly ever permitted entrance, and when he was, he was trapped in boredom. Apollyon was gathering appointed generals and other citizens of Gnosi he felt were vital for the er
adication of the Spirit Followers.

  Riah’s stomach clenched, knowing that Saffira woul d be present. He kept his eyes cast downward as the shiny edifice of black glass came into view above the towering pine trees. The first drops of rain began to patter as Riah was being enclosed within the building. Those gathered beneath the temple’s roof were standing while Apollyon had draped himself into an elaborate seat.

  All eyes turned to Riah.

  Gnosi's prince clenched his fists and marched towards his father between the two rows of steel seats which were pressed against the towering walls. Embellished tapestries with silver lining hung from those walls, coming to rest behind the seats. Each of the seats were occupied. Riah glimpsed Saffira in one from the corner of his eye. Her gaze was purposely directed away from him.

  Riah plopped into the only empty seat, one near to his father. Across from him, a nervous man with a pointed beard fidgeted. Riah guessed that this was due to the fact that all new Apollyon’s mysterious guest was to presently be revealed.

  Gnosi’s heir and prince avoided glancing down the row of seats at Saffira and directed his attention to his father who was glaring disapprovingly at his son. “So what? I am late. Is anything new?” He asked silently with a pointed look. His father released an exasperated sigh. Ignoring his son, Apollyon addressed the crowd.

  “We are going to kill the Spirit Followers. All of them,” Apollyon declared rather blandly. The twenty-four persons in the audience stirred, glancing at one another with confused expressions. Whispers of, “But they were done away with ages ago,” trilled through the air. Riah perched an elbow on the arm of his seat and rested his chin in his palm.