Spirit Followers

by Lydia Redwine

  These thoughts of Cam’s were confirmed when Owen whipped out a vial ofpaleblueliquid, forcedRiah’s mouth open and dumped the contents down his throat. Cam suppressed the gasp as she watched the paincreating poison inflame Riah’s throat. He clutched at his chest. “Where. Is. The. Army?”

  “I won’t tell you…anything…” he said, his words coming in short breaths.

  Owen stalked closer. “I do not know how much you have been taught of Imber Fel’s magic, but just in case you are not aware...the poison coursing through your body now will continue to inflame your veins until you have grown numb. Permanently.” Owen seemed as though he would continue, but his words were sliced off suddenly. Cam had seen Riah grit his teeth in pain. She had seen him hold her gaze for one last moment before his lips moved silently.

  She could feel his unspoken words trilling through her veins; a creeping darkness of despair which made her feel suddenly alone and lost. The darkness enclosed around her, and she realized it was not just her mind but the entirety of the room. Her view was blocked by a blackness which seemed intricate and designed through those words Riah had silently uttered.

  She heard a voice, and a shudder barrelled down her spine. "Thank you, Cam, for all you have done. Our whole operation wouldn't have been possible without you." The scene before her began to unblur, becoming gradually clearer. Riah had vanished like a wisp of smoke.

  Cam was gripped from behind. Iron hands held her tightly by the wrists. To her left and right, the other Spirit Followers were being captured by the hands of guards. The castle was inhabited after all. Cam was ruthlessly spun around along with the other bound Spirit Followers.

  In the opening, next to eerie firelight, stood three figures. Apollyon held himself erect, draped in dark robes. He was flanked by two persons. Cam gaped in recognition. The very people who raised her stood next to her adversary. "Yes, thank you, Camaria Caddell. That is your true name correct?" Apollyon applauded. "Thanks to you, our operation is possible. You have brought the Spirit Followers right where I've wanted them since the beginning."

  Cam felt her insides churn as if they were rotting. Her heart raced as she realized exactly what Apollyon’s purpose for her had been all along. “He never intended on murdering me,” she thought. This did not, however, bring her relief. Despair seeped through her. He wanted her to escape and bring the Spirit Followers here. There would be no war. He never planned on attacking Mirabelle. “It was me and the Spirit Followers the whole time,” Cam's mind cried out. And now there was no hope. No one came to save them. The doves were at the hands of the hunters and they would be slain.

  Cam’s heart ceased its wildthrobbingand seemed to shatter completely as her gaze met Silva’s which was a dark hatred full of contrite.

  “The thirdform Shadow Bearers appearin are dividedinto two separate groups: Air and Fire. They are called as such not because they live in air and fire but because they possess the power to ignite flames wherever their hand grazes or blend into the air until they are invisible. They are the deadliest. They appear as figures hooded in black and can cast flames from their fingers. Their flames are not red like what we are accustomed too. They are blue and do not affect the Shadow Bearer in any degree.”

  -The Scarlet Spy

  Thirty-Seven

  One long night and over twenty prisoners in dungeons below the

  castle, but this time there was no one to help them escape. This time, Cam had been thrown into a separate cell far from Peter. Indignant shouting and murmuring echoed through the prison. They must be angry with her, she thought. Because she had never seen Apollyon’s true intent, they were trapped here. The only Spirit Followers not with them were the weaker kind; children, the elderly, and mothers who refused to be parted their children. The ones they have left safely behind in the Black Mountains.

  Cam banged her fists angrily against the stone walls of her cell. Rage rippled through her. Presently, tears trickled over her cheeks, dripping onto her neck.

  She crumpled to the floor and buried her head into her arms. Her tears tuned out the obnoxious ruckuses made by her fellow prisoners.

  “What will happen now?” The thought was numb, distant. Four faces flashed in her mind.

  Three of them distinct and clear. “Fiera, Mista, Adria…”

  The fourth was outlined in glowing white, a form fading quickly.

  “Terra.” The name seemed to echo down the dungeons hall itself.

  “What will happen to them?” Because when Apollyon won, Silva and Kazbek would find her sisters.

  Where was deliverance now? Where was the god Terra and Grandfather had believed in? The dove meant nothing to her now.

  A new day had dawned when the Spirit Followers were dragged from their cells. One guard per captive escorted them up through the castle and outside. They were forced to walk through the forest for an entire hour, their hands bound. Cam staggered against trees and received slaps on her bruised face every time she slowed her pace. She was both famished and fatigued. It didn't matter, though

  - not when she was convinced they would kill her. She wondered if she would die the same way her mother did. Tyron had told her that Cassia was nailed to a tree and hung until the life had left her.

  When they broke through the forest into a valley shadowed by an overcast sky, Cam noticed that there was a small building in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. The wooden structure had one door and no windows. Glista, Kazbek, and Barak stood before the door. Cam stared in disbelief at Glista. Although she had already proven herself as a brutal traitor, it was still shocking to see her with cold and calculating eyes. She had donned armor and a sword swung at her side.

  “Glad you could join us,” she said icily. Shelaughed in a way that was both beautiful and unpleasant. “Did everyone have a pleasant night’s sleep?” Her eyes met Cam’s before trailing to the others. Her delicate yet strong fingers lightly traced the edge of a dagger held in a loose grip. She smirked. “Who would like to go first?” All were silent as Glista gazed at them expectantly.

  “Fine, leave the decision to me if that is what you wish,” she drawled. For a moment she observed each of them in turn as if she was making an extremely important decision. Finally, she pointed her dagger to a young woman far down the line to Cam’s left. The girl cried out when her escort jerked her mercilessly towards Glista.

  “Perha ps we will have mercy on some of you and allow you a hasty death,” Kazbek drawled.

  “You won’t get away with this!” the girl screamed, her voice hoarse. Cam stood in tense silence. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her flesh was ash white.

  “A slow death for her,” Glista said with a dramatic sigh. The young woman’s escort yanked open the small structure’s door and hurled her through it. “Barak, will you do the honors?” He grinned a horrible grin. “Do not burn down the building...yet.” Glista handed over the blade, and Barak disappeared into the shed, shutting the door behind him.

  The woman’s first scream sliced the silence of the valley. Cam winced, her body shuddering. Fresh tears stung her cheeks. Glista remained before them without expression. Kazbek picked at his nails. “They should have killed me first,” Cam thought. She clenched her teeth until it felt as though they would break from the gums. She balled her fingers into fists, causing her nails to draw blood in her palms.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the screaming ceased, and Cam heard a low thud. Barak reappeared the next moment, splattered in scarlet blood. He gave Glista a wry grin and returned the dagger to her. Cam’s stomach coiled into a tight knot the next moment when Glista’s tongue flicked out to taste the blood dripping from the blade.

  “Not as horrid as I expected,” Glista mused, tasting the blood further. Bile rose in Cam’s throat. “The next person to step forward will be killed quickly.”

  Before anyone else could shout anything, Cam muttered, “Takeme.” Sheliftedher eyes. “Takemeandlet themgo.” Her voice was soft, nothing about her tone pleadin
g. But her eyes were as they searched Glista’s expression.

  Glista turned towards her, a flicker of surprise darting across her countenance. “What did you say?”

  “Take me and let them go.” Cam made an effort to jerk forward in earnest, but she was yanked backward by the escort holding her arms in iron grips. Glista glanced over at Barak and Kazbek. Kazbek nodded.

  “Do as she says,” he commanded quietly.

  Cam was dragged forward across the hardened, frosty ground. She collapsed to her knees when the guard brought her to a halt before Kazbek. Cam found the courage to lift her face to meet Kazbek's gaze. "I am sorry about all of this," he said. "But there just isn't any such thing as a god." Cam grunted at the pain in her legs as she seethed at him.

  Barak swung open the shed door and began to grasp Cam’s arm when…

  “No!” Barak, Glista, Kazbek, andCam turnedto seewho had shouted. “Kill me instead!” Cam’s lips fell apart, aghast. Her heart plummeted to the deepest it could fall as Peter staggered forward. “Peter, no,” Cam whimpered.

  “Take me instead!” he cried, trying to run forward, but he was held back by his escort.

  Glista rolled her eyes. “Just kill someone already.” Barak and Kazbek shared a glance and shrugged. Kazbek motioned for Cam’s escort to return her to the line and for Peter to be brought forward. Cam was once again dragged over the grass. She screamed after Peter as he was forced into the shed.

  Tears streamed from Cam’s eyes. “Don’t do this for me,” she screamed after him. She was wailing, not caring what sort of scene she was creating anymore. Peter cast one more glance over his shoulder in his direction before Barak slammed the door behind them. “He can’t die for me!” her mind screamed. They were all doomed. They would each die slowly at the edge of a blade and the last person, she assumed, would go down in flames.

  The valley rang with silence. Peter's first cry cut the air, and Cam burbled another sob. Droplets of rain mixed with her tears, falling to the already muddy ground. In a matter of minutes, they were caught in a steady downpour. Cam's crying ceased. Peter's cries were now drowned out by the rain.

  She saw the blurred outlines of Glista and Kazbek before she crumpled to the ground, her knees in a muddy puddle.

  Then her eyes caught a strange sight.

  Steam.

  No…smoke. Through the haze of the rain and the tears that blurred her eyes, she glimpsed a pillar of smoke rising above the pines toweringon thevalley’s ledgefar above her. Sheshut her eyes. Then reopened them, thinking she was only seeing the smoke. But no, it was still there and rising higher into the air. And more were forming all around the valley.

  She straightened her shoulders and back to catch a better view when she saw the first flames. Through the darkness of that valley rose a light from all around. There was at least a dozen. "Bonfires," she surmised.

  Cam spotted moving shadows in the rain. They were moving towards them. More like charging towards them. Then there were two people bending over her. Her escort lay beside her in a pool of blood and soggy mud. His own blood. Rainwater mixed with the blood, creating an ugly shade of brownish-red.

  “Cam, you’re alright? I’m going to untie you, okay?” “Saffira,” Cam murmured. “I must be dreaming.” Saffira was dead. With this thought, Cam emitted a sound like a laugh and an agonizing cry.

  “Try to stand.” The second voice was Fiera’s. Cam was standing and partly sagging against her. Fiera forced her up, and Cam attempted to clear her vision. She lifted her eyes open as wide as they would go and peered through the rain. The smoke pillars were still there.

  “We have to get out of here!” Saffira was shouting to her comrades. Cam found that the other escorts were also dead and that Kazbek, Barak, and Glista were nowhere to be seen.

  Fierawas graspingCam’s shoulders, shakingher attention from the bodies surrounding her to what Fiera was saying. “Cam, wehave to leave. Ifwe stay, it will kill us too.” But Cam sawtheshedand fled towards it, stumbling over the strewn corpses. If Fiera was screaming after her, Cam could not hear.

  Cam’s body collided with the shed’s wall causing pain to surge through every part of her. Wincing and gritting her teeth, she forced open the door and plunged through. She fell beside Peter’s body. The air was clear inside, and Cam found that she was shivering with her clothing soaked completely through. Blood was everywhere; on the walls, floor, and even the ceiling. More blood poured from the almost deceased girl who had been tortured first, but not from Peter. Not from a serious wound at least. His upper arm had a cut but that was all.

  She crawled over to press herself to Peter and leaned over him. “Cam,” he whispered.

  “I thought they killed you.” Her voice was scratchy. He only smiled. “It’s coming isn’t it? Death.”

  Cam shook her head. “No, no you’ll be alright…”

  Peter’s fingers grasped at her hand. “No...they’re making sacrifices now, aren’t they? Death will come for them…”

  From a high point in the castle, Riah saw the pillars lining the

  circumference of the valley. He squinted in confusion. The rain was beginning to cease when Leviathan drew up next to him. Riah saw as a figure soaked through darted towards the border of the forest on the eastern portion of the valley. Glista. Leviathan whirled away. “Summon the army. I will take care of Glista.”

  After a moment, Riah hurried to the cave. He dove, swam, emerged through the opening and found the army already assembled before him. His father was there. Apollyon flashed a wicked smile in Riah's direction.

  “Why have they lit fires?” Riah asked, thinking it stupid for the army of the south to announce their presence so openly. Apollyon did not reply. He only signaled the Shadow Bearer army behind him and they whisked into the air.

  The sky had turned black as if a sudden dark robe had been draped

  over it. The only light still flickering were the bonfires surrounding the valley below. The flames flickered behind Fiera as she stood to Saffira’s right, a sword clutched in her hand.

  "Almost there," Saffira murmured as she glanced over her shoulder at an altar built behind her. A lamb was slain over it, its flesh nearly completely licked away by the flames.

  “Will all those in the valley die?” Fiera asked, remembering how she had lost Cam in the chaos of the movement, the rain and the smoke. She could only hope that someone else had dragged her from the valley below.

  Or that Cam had gotten herself out.

  “Yes, but not in the castle,” Saffira replied.

  Caleb drew up beside Fiera. Owen, Lia and several others were positioned behind them. Tyron was stationed at the first smoke pillar which had been made. It had been a signal to begin the other sacrifices. Fiera still wondered at the sacrifices Saffira had insisted they perform. How would this win them a battle? Despite Fiera’s questions, Caleb, Saffira, Owen, Lia and others were sure it was the prudent decision to make.

  Saffira glanced towards her and noticed her furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. She clamped a hand on Fiera’s shoulder. “It is a practice the Followers of Elyon have held since it has been necessary to atonefor our realms wrongdoings,” sheexplained.Shemotioned towards the altar. “As for what we’re summoning...it’s only been done but a few times.” Saffira gulped. “Elyon bring it again.”

  Fiera’s lips parted to ask after it: What did it look like? What was ‘it?’ What the hell was about to happen.

  But the scene below was flashing, a bright light cleveing through the darkness. It was pale white, nothing warm. Nothing inviting. The light made the Shadow Bearers floating just above the rain-soaked ground visible where Fiera had not seen them before.

  And Apollyon was before them.

  No sign of Gnosi’s heir.

  Fiera could not hear the Shadow Bearers if they were making any sound. She could only see dimly through the haze of rain that they were peering up into the smoke. And even as there were thousands of them…

  Fiera felt completel
y at peace.

  They wouldn’t come out of the valley. There was something about Cinis Lumen surrounding them on all sides and the altars that made this picture appeal to their side.

  “We’re going to win,” she breathed. Only a small part decayed within her that she wouldn’t be able to sling a blade into one of those creatures’ worthless bodies.

  Fiera was ripped from her own thoughts.

  By silence.

  The light was ebbing, pulsating. And there was no more rain. A rush of wind barrelled into the valley and the light intensified. Fiera could hear the wind as if it were tunneling through her own body. It seemed distant even as she watched the light form into wisps of pale smoke-like substance.

  It rushed over the valley’s floor.

  And the Shadow Bearers fell.

  No screams.

  Just that horrendous wind.

  Fiera tried to scream, but her throat would not push the sound out. She clamped her hands over her ears. She could not tear her eyes away, even as her heart thundered and every part of her willed her too.

  The wind kept rushing, and Fiera could see it. It stole the breath from her lungs. “Not wind,” she though. All around her, everything was still. And that wind, that pillar of white, translucent thing that dipped into that valley sent chills rumbling down Fiera’s spine. Her flesh rose in chills.

  The pillar of whiteness halted as if it were eyeing and taunting the Shadow Bearer army before it. “What is that?”

  And a voice that seemed to speak inside of her like that wind said, “Azrael. The Spirit of death.”

  “We summoned it?”

  “And I, Elyon gave it.”

  The army below was screaming. They must have been. Fiera could see their open mouths and tautly drawn bodies. She could see the pain etched into their hideous faces. But she could not hear their cries. Only the rush of that…spirit bellowed in her ears. She felt as though there was an ocean contained within her body, a massive weight pressing on her every limb just at being in the presence of the spirit.