Spirit Followers

by Lydia Redwine

  Slowly, she lifted her face and looked over the ledge to see a bird swooping gracefully towards them. Through the gray sky it was a gleaming white, a light in the darkness, flying towards her. Instinctively, she put out her palms, pressed close together, towards the bird. To her surprise, it circled around her hands for a short moment and then landed in her palms. Its talons prickled her skin and it shook its small head before its beady eyes met hers.

  Owen was watching thoughtfully as if holding a bird wasn't unusual. His fingers reached around the dove's neck to stroke its smooth feathers. This was a sign. The dove was not just a symbol of rebellion. It was a symbol of the Spirit of Elyon, a guide in darkened lands.

  She felt it then; The loose end which was left untied deep within her.

  “I think she likes you,” Owen said with a small chuckle. Presently, Cam outstretched her arms and released the bird. She watched it fly into the distance, a white speck on the horizon.

  Owen straightened and took his hand from Cam’s shoulder. “Those of us capable enough to battle will depart from here in two days’ time. The soldiers will take additional training tomorrow. We will go and lend our aid to Cinis Lumen.”

  “They don’t know we’re coming.” Cam laughed a little but became worried when she realized Fiera and Lia were probably wondering where she and Peter had disappeared. And what of Saffira? She could only hope she was still alive.

  “Who says we’re going to Cinis Lumen?” Owen said gravely. Cam frowned up at him. “We have a store of poisons, Cinis Lumen magic, Gnosi, and Medulla for ourselves. Perhaps it would be prudent if you review the poisons.” With that, Owen left her, standing on the edge of a valley in solitude wondering when and where the battle for Mirabelle would occur.

  That's when she began wondering if she should fight -- if she was ready to fight. She knew which side she was on now. Silva and Kazbek made that decision easy for her. Droplets of rain replaced the now gone tears from her face.

  She knew she would be caught in a downpour, but she didn’t care. She welcomed a storm. The past month has seemed like a famine and now it would rain and all evil would be washed away. Mirabelle could grow again.

  Thirty-Six

  The following day, Cam and Peter departed from the mountain

  fortress on foot down into an adjoining valley where cloth tents were arranged along the perimeter. The sloping sides of the valley were covered in forests, and Cam saw that multiple young people, both male and female, darted over the valley floor. At one end stood a row of targets with dead animals hanging from trees. These were being penetrated with many arrows. Pairs of other young people were competing in fencing duels. All were clad in more comfortable armor used for training rather than battle.

  The event occurring in the center of the valley under a brilliant array of sunlight was what caught Cam’s attention the most. A young male lion scampered over the ground, surrounded by four young trainees.

  “They’re attempting to tameit,” Peter said with agrin. Noticing how unusual Cam saw the process of training to be, he added, “This is how we’ve always trained since our people first took refuge here.” Cam followed Peter to the targets of hanging animal corpses.

  “I can shoot alright,” Cam told him as she eyed the bow and quiver of arrows he was examining. “Then showmehowyoucan throw.” Peter selectedthreeknives from a nearby basket upon the ground. He handed one to Cam before demonstrating the throw. Cam watched in awe as he threw the knife’s point straight into the eyeof a wolf. Cam attempted to do the same and eventually landed hers in its flank. “We’ll be eating him for the middaymeal,” remarkedPeter, noticinghowpunctured the animal was from previous trainees.

  Next, they ventured to the spot where available swords were stationed. "Stay aware and alert," Peter recommended as he tossed Cam a light sword. She caught it with surprising ease and assumed the position. Peter made the first move by plunging his sword towards Cam's torso. Instead of blocking the blow with her own weapon, she leaped out of the way. Peter shook his head. "You have a sword. Use it." At his next lunge, she blocked it with ease. She took a turn but Peter managed to knock the sword from her hand.

  "Find a way to determine your opponent's reaction to your move," he told her. Cam lunged at him and once again he knocked the sword from her grasp. She caught it before it landed on the ground and scrambled underneath his sword. She rose quickly and nimbly to her feet. She was behind Peter now, and before he could whirl around, she struck the back of his legs and then his backside. She pressed the pointed end to his back. He laughed with surprise, as though he winced from the pain in his legs. She kicked him more gently to the ground and stood over him, her sword pointed at his throat.

  Peter laughed again and dropped his sword. “That was…not bad…quite impressive actually. You thought quickly, though you should be more aggressive.” Cam raised a brow. “Like this!” Peter wrapped his feet around her ankles and caused her to tumble to the ground beside him. She landed with a thud on the ground. She groaned for the wind had been knocked out of her. Peter jumped to his feet before offering his hand to Cam. She scrambled to all fours, and, like an animal lunged towards him, knocking him down. He hit his head on a tent peg, and he cried out.

  “Is that aggressive enough?” She asked rhetorically as she managed to catch her breath. She grinned. “I won!” She took both of their swords and placed them in their station. Peter gave in with a moan of pain and rubbed the back of his head.

  She plopped beside him and offered the canteen of water he had brought for them. Lifting it to his lips, Peter dribbled the cool liquid onto his parched lips. “Peter why aren’t slingshots a common weapon in wars anymore?”

  Peter glanced sideways at her with a perched brow. He took another swig of the water. “They may be…in other nations. I have never heard of Mirabelle using them. Why” His words stopped when he saw the slingshot Cam held in her hand. “That’s my sister’s.”

  “Was. She gave it to me. Will you help me practice?” Peter obliged her.

  Hours later, by the light of a fire under a star-speckled sky, Cam

  and Peter were seated on a log positioned at a bonfire while eating the remains of their squirrel stew which Cam decided was not as good as Fiera's. They shared a canteen of water and spoke of the different training methods of the realms. Cam had found that the Spirit Followers' training was most enjoyable.

  They had spent the remainder of the afternoon practicing with swords, arrows, knives, and even spears. Cam had managed to knock several objects of a far off branch with her slingshot. Peter thought her skills sufficient enough for their upcoming attack the next day. Neither Peter nor Owen had yet given her the game plan, but she was too consumed with the specifics of self-defense to care then.

  “Youtoldmeoncethatyoureadsheetmusic,” Camsaidas Peter handed her their shared cup. Peter nodded. “Do you sing?”

  Peter’s lips lifted in a small, soft smile. “I do…I mean I can. We all sing here. But I do not read sheet music to sing. I play this.” Peter fished in his pocket and pulled from it a small tubular piece of light blue wood. Small holes were cut down the length. A round opening was at the bottom and a slit was found at the top.

  Cam took the pipe in her hands and turned over the smooth wood in her palm. “My father made it,” Peter said. “But your father taught me how to play.”

  “Playfor me,” Camsaid. Shesmiledas shehandedthepipeback to Peter.

  After a moment, he shrugged. Lifting the pipe to his lips, he straightened his back and shoulders. The notes came in nearly shrill sounds, filling the air around them with a simple, brisk melody. Cam watched Peter’s focused expression as his fingers darted over the holes. The melody encircled them and the fire, filling her simultaneously with warmth and chills.

  When he finished, he gave her a smile and pushed the pipe back into his pocket. “You play well,” she said. “It was pretty. Do you carry it with you always?” Peter nodded.

  Silence settled between them until P
eter said, “There is one more thing to complete your traininghere.” He withdrew a bottle of inkandanarrowtwigwithapointedend. “Consider this partofyour training. This is more so our people can recognize you as one of us during the battle.” Cam allowedhimtobendbesideher andwith the ink and twig; he began to draw on her upper arm. He took several minutes, for he drew carefully. When he had finished, he blew on her skin to dry the ink. Cam peered down at what he had drawn and saw that it was a dove much like the one on his forearm.

  “Thisnext part willhurt. Consider itanother testofendurance.” Cam’s eyes widened, but before she could object he had pressed a scorching metal object over the ink. She cried out in pain, for the heat seared through her skin. Peter held the metal to her arm for a full minute before releasing it and casting it to the ground.

  “What did you do?” Cam exclaimed.

  “I made it stay. Basically, I burned ink into your flesh so that the dove figure remains permanently.” Cam frowned, for her skin still stung. “We’ve all hadit done. It will stay for many years.” Peter, who saw how much pain she was truly in, softened his expression and bent his lips to her burn. He kissed her skin softly before pulling the sleeve over the ink-drawn dove.

  Riah remained still as he felt Leviathan approaching behind him.

  He continued to stare out over the ruins of the Shadow Bearer Realm of Air. The Shadow Bearers were preparing for battle, and Riah was only here to watch, having nothing else better to do. He was still dressed in a mud-splattered clothing he had worn while he buried the old man on the hillside.

  "They are not the best army I have trained, but they will suffice for this venture," Leviathan said quietly. He drew up beside Riah who stood in the large opening between the Shadow Bearer Realm and the cave behind them. Gnosi's hair was just now beginning to dry whereas Leviathan seemed hardly wet at all.

  Riah had no time to wonder at this before Leviathan asked, “How did you kill her?”

  Riah glanced warily at theShadow Bearer. “Ido not see how the how matters. I killed her. Isn’t that enough?” Leviathan looked unconvinced. “Convince him. Convince him that I wanted nothing to do with her.”

  “You loved her.” It was not a question.

  “Once,” Riah replied after a long moment. “When I killed her people, she turned her back on me. She was a threat that had to be eliminated.”

  “Did you kill her to prove yourself?” Riah shot Leviathan a cold glance. The Shadow Bearer did not press the subject. “You must have loved her enough to never see her heritage and the people she spent much of her time with.”

  “When did you find out she was a Spirit Follower?” Riah countered.

  “I have known since I first saw her. She has that light about her that all of those people possess. That light is unmistakable and…dangerous. It is a flame that we must squelch.”

  Riah paused the conversation to tear his eyes from the smoldering, gray ruins before him to hold Leviathan’s gaze. “Then why didn’t you have me kill her at the banquet with the others? It would have tested me far more.”

  “Indeed,” Leviathan replied with a slight nod. “But she has proved somewhat useful. She helped them escape didn’t she?”

  “I do not understand,” Riah returned truthfully. Leviathan only cracked a grin and did not explain.

  Riah heard Saffira’s words tumbling in his mind again, “I have to finish this.” She had set her brother and Camaria free, knowing it would endanger them, knowing Leviathan’s plans, and yet, she still had a plan. He almost smiled, affection swelling in his heart.

  Leviathan cut off the feeling with a cold demand, “You will aid in the battle after all. You will lay the trap. Ambush them successfully and you will have passed another stage in the trials.”

  Shadows danced interchangeably between the widths of towering

  pine trees. Snow drifted in small flakes down upon the ground in the long mountain forest between the Black Mountains and the Gnosi Realm. An enormous, full moon peeked from behind fluffy clouds in the dark sky. Cam glanced up at the trees, wondering who had remained behind and if Saffira was possibly nearby in the castle.

  Cam was stationed in the center of the forest with a narrow, silver sword in hand. Due to Peter's training, she may actually have the capability to handle it properly. Cam stood still as a statue on the frosty ground with a dark hood covering half her face. The dove necklace from Owen hung proudly over her chest, glinting in the moonlight.

  Cam perked her ears and listened intently. Their plan was that those keeping watch in the forest were to wait for a signal before leading an attack on the castle. Cam pulled her cloak tightly around her to prevent the cold from prickling her skin more than it already had.

  Then she heard it.

  At first, it sounded like the breeze through the branches but then the sound of soft singing became distinct against her eardrums. She started forward through the forest, choosing to keep her gait quiet over the crunchy leaves and freshly fallen powdering of snow.

  Presently, several figures clad in shades of deep blue hoods like hers emerged from the trees and glided beside her. After a mile of silent treading over snowy ground, they broke through the line of trees into the clearing in front of the Castle in the Air.

  They stood like silent guards in disguise, and each had two things in common: each wore the symbol of the dove and each was prepared to battle their way inside. Cam stared up at the darkened castle. The realm was quiet. Deadly quiet. No one seemed to be here, but some must be. There had to be in order for their plan to work.

  When one of the Spirit Followers at the end of the line drew their sword and forced it forward, Cam knew they must prepare to charge. Quickly, she lifted the vial of Cinis Lumen to her lips and pushed the smallest bit in her throat. Her senses seemed to awaken from a half-sleeping state. Her eyes detected the smallest detail in the stone before her. The rustle of her cloak and the falling of the snow was heightened in her ears. And the smells...fresh, clear mountain air chilled her nostrils.

  Quiet as a deer in a forest, the first figure stepped forward, sword withdrawn. Cam and the rest of the Spirit Followers went forward in the same manner and eventually formed a circle around the circumference of the castle. When they were close to the castle walls, Cam realized she was standing between Owen and another man.

  Cam returned her sword to its sheath which was hanging from her side in order to scale the wall. When she glanced up again, she found that those around her had thrown ropes with irons spikes tied to their ends up to the balcony of the highest portion of the castle. The spikes latched, and the silent company began to scale the wall.

  Cam reached a stiffened, gloved hand before her and grasped the rope. She hauled herself up and began the arduous climb. She grunted in displeasure every time she strained her muscles to reach higher. She lost her footing several times, almost plummeting towards the ground. Owen and the man beside her seemed to conquer the wall with ease.

  Cam tried to not look down at the ground which was now far from her. They were climbing to the spot where she and Peter had escaped, where Saffira was captured. Her screams for Cam to flee echoed through her mind. Cam was pulled from this recollection when Owen grasped her hand and hauled her over the side of the wall. It took Cam a moment to steady herself. In a matter of moments, the rest of their companions was over the wall and stood to catch their breath. Owen opened the door of the tower and ushered them through.

  They descended like silent spies and broke into the main hall which Cam found was completely desolate. They inched quietly into the hall, glancing around for unsuspecting observers. Not a single soul appeared. Owen took a quick turn after withdrawing his sword. The rest of the Spirit Followers dispersed into separate rooms. All Cam could hear was the quiet communication between them.

  She followed Owen through room after room, darting between tables, beds, and pillars. Cam steered slightly to avoid slipping through the vile, spilled contents of a chamber pot. She scrunched her nose to keep the
smell at bay and darted after Owen all the while looking for Peter…and Saffira.

  “In here!” Owen shouted. Cam plunged after him into a room that was almost completely dark except for the small torch Owen carried. Owen had a sword pressed up to ayoung man’s neck. Cam gasped.

  “Riah…”

  “Cam! Help me!” She stood in shock. Riah should be with the army in Cinis Lumen. Why had he stayed behind?

  “Who is this, Cam?” Owen demanded, snapping her gaze from Riah to him. The next instant she was surrounded by several of their group, including Peter.

  “Apollyon’s son,” she said finally, gazing into Riah’s pleading eyes. Although his father was the adversary, Cam did not desire him to be hurt.

  “Perfect,” Owen smirked. “You should know everything then,” he told Riah. He stepped back, releasing the blade from his neck. Riah remained on his knees, and Cam could see blood trickling from a small wound inflicted by Owen.

  “Where’s Saffira?” Peter demanded with a bitter calm that almost made Cam shudder.

  “She’s gone,” Riah replied huskily as he scrutinized Peter. The latter stepped forward and jerked Gnosi’s prince back by grasping a handful of hair in his fist.

  “Where is she?” he spit slowly, enunciating each word.

  “I do not know! She is gone!” Riah seemed to be speaking the truth. Peter released his hair reluctantly and stepped back at Owen’s prodding.

  “Let’s see if you know where anyone else is,” Owen stated, steppingtowards theboy.Riah was calm andcollected. Owen didn’t frighten him in the least. “Your father, the army, where are they? What are their plans of attack?”

  Riah scoffed. “You actually believe that I would release such information to you?”

  “Oh? You want to play it that way?” Riah stood up nonchalantly and crossed his arms over his chest. He stood in defiance. Cam realized he would not go down without a fight. She groaned internally. He would indeed be hurt, for Owen would stop at nothing to pry the information from him.