Spirit Followers

by Lydia Redwine

  The Shadow Bearers were falling in masses, tumbling to the ground. They were not bleeding, but Fiera knew that they were dead. Apollyon was the last to be enveloped into that white pillar. His skin turned pale as ash as he slumped to the ground. The next thing Fiera noticed was that she no longer felt any warmth radiating on her back, nor was there any light. The fire behind her had died out; vanished like that rain had. The other fires built around the valley had also been squelched. When Fiera slipped her eyes back to the valley below, she saw that Death had vanished and that the valley floor was covered in slain Shadow Bearers. Only the pale light of a sky now void of darkness leached through the valley.

  “That is the power we believe in. That is what Elyon can do,” Fiera heard a low voice say. She turned to Caleb who looked solemnly down into the valley. He glanced at Fiera. “Feels like days have passed, doesn’t it?”

  Fiera could only nod, her tongue sticking inside her mouth. They had just won the battle. Shouldn’t she feel victorious? Fiera only felt cold. A vague sort of fear tremored through her veins at the sight of the slain army below her.

  “Death,” she murmured.

  Caleb pulled at her arm to urge her to follow him with the rest of their comrades. They were going to return to Tyron. Fiera trailed behind Caleb at a short distance as the dozen of them followed the path weaving through the rain-drenched forest. Fiera remained behind the other eleven, her mind still whirling around that image of the corpse-strewn valley.

  She was not prepared for the arm that closed around her throat and strangled the cry she was trying to emit. Her vision clouded as the arm tightened in an iron clasp, choking off all air. She writhed wildly, trying to pry the strong arm from her throat.

  She kicked the assailant hard enough to loosen its grip which worked long enough for her to release a shrill cry and whirl on the person. Wearing a cruel yet faltering smile was Silva. Fiera had not enough time to register her mother’s presence before the woman had leaped on her and had pressed the blade of a sword to her throat.

  Fiera cried out. She meant to say something like "help me!" but all it came in a frantic sounding cry. The blade drew across her throat, stinging her skin and drawing blood. Fiera coughed violently. "You had your chance, dear daughter. And now you will die as you have so clearly requested by your actions-" Fiera found the arrow to her side. Without hesitation, she plunged it into Silva's right upper arm.

  The action so surprised Silva that Fiera managed to pin the woman beneath her to the ground. Clutching the arrow’s end, Fiera pushed it deeper into her arm until it pinned her to the ground. This brought an agonizing scream from Silva’s lips.

  “Don’t…you can’t…” Silva whimpered as the blood pooled from her arm.

  “Shut up!” Fiera screamed, thoroughly disgusted with Silva’s pleas for mercy. She deserved this. She needed to die. It was only just. She had brought many deaths upon Mirabelle. Fiera aimed the arrow straight at her heart. Tears poured fromSilva’s pleading eyes. “Did you do it, mother? Did you kill also those people thirteen years ago?”

  “Don’t do it Fiera!” Silva screamed at the top of her lungs. Fiera’s questions were lost to rain that was now falling again. Fiera did not know whether she was trying to gather the attention of willing comrades to save her or whether she was being genuine. Fieratook thearrowandplungedit into Silva’s left arm, pinningher further. The woman released an agonizing wail of pain. Fiera stalked away. At the very least, she was injured. She may survive or she may die a slow death.

  Someone else would kill her off.

  Fiera fled the spot of her dejected mother and the pool of blood that was forming beneath her arms.

  She ran and collided into Caleb.

  “I heard screaming!” He clutched her arms and searched her face. Anxiety swept over his face.

  “I’ m fine,” Fiera stated. But she wasn’t fine.

  Caleb nodded. “Tyron says wearegoinginto thevalley to see if all the leaders have died.”

  But all Fiera could think about was that Terra had once told stories of a far off place. A place called Caelae. Where everything perfect was fashioned. Even death. Even fear.

  Fiera stood amidst the strewn, decaying forms of the Shadow

  Bearers whose eyes were now hollow and forms now sagging bags of rippling muscles, tissue, and wrinkled flesh. Her eyes ddn’t snag on the corpses, but rather, the still standing shed. With all the wind and rain it had still stood. And…

  “Cam!” Fiera ran as if she could outrun her thundering heart. Her eyes were blurred, ears full or roaring as she yanked the door open.

  Her mind shouted that she was carrying false hope. Death must have slain Cam too. Nevertheless, Fiera dropped to her knees beside Cam and tilted her head. She pressed two fingers to her pulse. Though it was weak, it still thrummed beneath her flesh.

  Peter’s eyes were opening. Death had spared them. Fiera released a long, shuddering breath. “Camaria, wake up.”

  “The Shedim are the Fallen Prince’s legions, those who rebelled with him in Caelae before they were banished by Elyon. Some say the Shedim are more dangerous than the Shadow Bearers. I wonder at this question. Is it more dangerous to be hunted by something that hates you because they are not human or something that hunts you because they are part human but can never fully be one?”

  -An excerpt of a letter sent from Marcus Briar to his general during the Shadow Bearer War in Mirabelle during the Third Age

  Thirty-Eight

  Cam was drifting through a haze of white.

  It was a radiant white that glowed, blinding her eyes. She was not walking but gliding. She thought she could be in the clouds but did not know for certain. Nothing seemed real, but she felt completely at peace. Warmth thrummed through her veins. Had she come to the nation of Caelae that Owen had spoken of?

  Then from the white, appeared a woman of her stature with thesamewavy black hair. “Camaria…” Her voicewas honeyed; rich, flavorful, and smooth.

  But her face bore the markings of one who had lived for a long time. “No…” Cam thought. “Had lived too short of a time and was forced to live as though she were older.” A warrior. She bore scars. But they were flecked in gold. Shimmering marks on her brown skin.

  “Is...Peter okay?” Cam stopped as the woman nodded “Change is upon you, Camaria. Changes you must face bravely.” She smiled, her eyes dancing. Cam started to drift into a sleep but the woman stopped her. “Don’t close your eyes. Not yet. I won’t let you wake up yet.”

  “Is this a dream?” The woman only smiled.

  “You’ve done well. I am sorry that I didn’t live to see you grow up.” Tears, clear as glass, fell from her eyes onto the gold of her gown. “There are two things I need you to know. Love your father, please. For me. Love him better than I did. He needs you. And you will need him.” Cam nodded, not sure that she could but knew she would try.

  The woman’s voice changed. So did her face. It grew a seriousness Cam could not ignore. “Camaria, Elyon is real.”

  Cam glanced around only to find that whiteness surrounded them. Rich, milky whiteness which wasn’t plain and dull. “Where are we?” The woman smiled slightly.

  “We are between your world and Caelae. Can you see the doorway?”

  Cam’s brows furrowed. “What door?”

  The woman’s face shadowed in disappointment but lightened an instant later. “Someday, you will see it,”

  Cam could sense the white fading. Her vision began to blur. And the woman grew out of focus. “Goodbye Mother,” was all she could think. All she could feel. The scene flashed, brilliant light blinding her yes once more. An image flashed in the whiteness: a high arch of blue stone and a gate below it.

  It vanished and her eyes fluttered open.

  The warm feeling of that dream was still threading through her veins. The dream was as vivid as the windows she now saw. Sunlight poured through them, lighting the small room Cam found herself in. She smiled a little at the memory of the dream.
She was lying on her side in what appeared to be a bed in a bright little room. She spread her hands out over the covers to see if they were real. Everything had been hazy lately. She turned slightly but instantly winced. The side of her head had a lump the size of an egg. Cam's fingers lightly traced her face, and she found a cut on her lip and a sensitive bruise on her cheek. Nothing else felt painful. She stretched her legs. They ached only a little.

  The door to the chamber opened, and Cam looked up to see Peter stepping in. He wore a loose cotton shirt over thin pants that he must have slept in. His hair was rumpled. His blue eyes shone as he beheld Cam.

  “Hi there,” he greeted her, walking over to the side of her bed. He sat beside her for a moment with eyes examining the bruises on her face and neck. He brushed a thumb over her lower lip where the cut ran towards her chin. She placed her own fingers around his wrist as if to assure herself he was there. He was alive.

  “What happened?” Cam inquired. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “You blacked out and after thebattle, they brought us here,” he told her.

  “Where’s here?" Cam attempted to sit up, but Peter insisted she lie back down.

  “The Gnosi Realm castle. It is all ours now.” He smiled before continuing. “Apollyon is gone and so is most of his army except for some of the Shadow Bearers. They retreated back into the forest and underground to their rightful place.”

  Cam’s heart began to thump as she wondered who had survived. Any of her friends could have died. Peter seemed to know what she was thinking. “Don’t worry. Fiera, Saffira, Lia, Owen, and all our friends are alive.” Cam released a deep sigh of relief and noticed that she had been clutching Peter’s arm. She released her hold.

  “What about Lord Caddell…I mean...my father?”

  “He returned from the north just this morning and is awaiting us downstairs. I’m going down now as a matter a fact. You should come down soon, when you’re ready.” Cam nodded as Peter left her side and departed from the room.

  Cam climbed out of bed to observe herself in the mirror and discovered she didn’t appear as bad as she had thought. There was a bandage around her arm and a couple bruises on her face. She brushed her hair gingerly to the side and donned fresh clothing before leaving the room.

  She followed the noise of clattering dishes and chatter to the main dining room in the castle that was formerly Apollyon's home. The room was bright and vibrant. People from all realms mingled among the tables in the room, which was breezy due to the fact that all windows were open. She spotted Lia and Saffira standing in line for food and her sisters accompanied by Cole and Peter at a table in the corner.

  She took her seat between Peter and Adria and across from Owen, Fiera, and Mista.

  “Why isn’t Caleb here?” Mista asked.

  “He said he wanted more rest,” Fiera replied with a shrug.

  "I'm hungry," Owen stated. "Will you come with me, Adria?" Adria smiled shyly and stood to accompany Owen.

  Cam turned to Amelia who sat across from her. "I thought you were dead," she said, her brow furrowing. Amelia looked with kind, yet saddened eyes at her.

  “After her dismissal,” Cole spoke up, “she came back unannounced and both of us set out to the Black Mountains to warn the Spirit Followers about Apollyon. They took our word and then sent us both to Nazeria to speak with the queen.”

  “And how is the queen?” Peter inquired.

  “Lonely. She still holds faith,” Cole replied. Slowly, his eyes drifted to Cam who held his gaze. “Would you do me the honor Camaria of joining me in the countryside for the next week? Of course, you do not have to, but it would please me much to become better acquainted with you.”

  Cam smiled. “I would be delighted to, but my sisters-”

  “I will watch after them,”Amelia began, but Cam’s attention was soon drawn to Tyron who was standing before the room.

  “May Ihave everyone’sattention,” heshoutedabove thedin. All eyes turned in his direction. “We have allowed the government of our nation to be presided over by those desiring power hence many of the Royals’ hastiness to join forces with Apollyon. This has caused our people to separate andnot workinunity as weoncedid.” The room was completely hushed as Tyron continued.

  “I remember a time when the realms were friends. My people use to willingly protect and fight for those who were weak. We can work together again, but we must reform the way our nation is run.” His words resounded through the room. Every ear had heard.

  “The Spirit Followers have brought us exactly what we need,” Heiron added, taking his place beside Tyron. “We ignored the help of this people group for too long. Tyron and I, being the remaining realm leaders have decided firstly, that the Spirit Followers become our new Royals. Every one of them will represent each of the realms. This does not mean that you too should be one but should pay respect to those who have saved us.”

  "Secondly," continued Tyron, stepping forward. "The Gnosi and Medulla Realms are in need of new leaders. And today, at this hour, we will institute a voting process. Those in the Medulla Realm may choose their new leader. The same is for the Gnosi citizens." At these words, a discussion broke out among those in the appointed realms.

  “We have our results,” declared Tyron after about half an hour ofwildchatter. “Itappears thatjustoverhalfofMedullaRealm has come to an agreement. Their decision, however, is not possible unless the candidate himself is willing to become their leader instead of a Royal.” Tyron’s gaze drifted to Owen who was standing at the front of the room next to Adria. Tyron nodded at the young man. Owen stepped forward in front of the room, looking somewhat dazed.

  “I -I…” hestammered. “Y-yes I would be very willing to serve our society as the Medulla Realm’s leader.” A wild smile appeared. He was elated, and the Medulla Realm couldn’t be in better hands. From beside Cam, Peter began applauding, and presently the entire room was echoing with applause. Owen slipped into a short bow, and the Medulla Realm citizens were on their feet.

  “And now for Gnosi,” Tyron said loudly to summon everyone’s attention once more. When the din had diminished he said, “It appears as if those in Gnosi have requested two persons to become leaders for them. There are an equal amount of votes for both of these people. Heiron and I have consulted and we agree that it will prove sufficient for two to leadthis realm…thatis if thepeople and the nominees agree.” The first name he called forced Peter to smile broadly. He rose to his feet, applauding loudly. Saffira approached Tyron, Heiron, and Owen scratching her head. Applause erupted from everyone except half of the Gnosi citizens. If it wasn’t for Saffira, Apollyon’s army would have never been defeated. The southern army would have never come to their aid.

  The next name Tyron called left Peter in a form of shock. Cam nudged him, trying to get him to stand up. Peter started to smile as he made his way across the sunlit room to take his place next to his sister.

  He would no longer be Royal. He would get to go home, and stay there.

  “Two more things!” Heiron announced, “Primarily, those who have remained alive and were allies of Apollyon will no longer be free citizens.” Gasps escaped, even from Cam. “They will work for the Royals in the Royalty Realm hence fourth.” Cam glanced at the table which had been set aside for these spoken persons. Riah was among them as well as several Royals. Kazbek, Barak, Glista, and Silva were still nowhere to be seen and thus had been announced as dead. “Tomorrow we will depart for the Royalty Realm. We will have a coronation for our newly appointed rulers and a celebration.”

  Cam locked eyes with her father, silently asking him if he would be one of the rulers. He nodded. Cam’s father, Peter, Fiera, and her friends knew their places from here on out. Now, Cam wondered what would become of her and her other sisters. It was somewhat of a strange feeling having no new realm to venture onto to warn.

  Cam and Peter slipped quietly out of the throne room after the evening meal. They climbed the stairs to the highest tower where Saffir
a first instigated Cam’s training. Alone, they stood overlooking the valleys and river. Above them, the sky spread out like an enormous blanket speckled with stars. Cam stared in awe for a moment before joining Peter at the edge. He leaned lazily over it, peering down into the valley.

  “What happens after this?” she asked without thinking. “Will I ever see you again?”

  “I suppose we will do what Tyron has proposed. Everyone seems to be in agreement.”

  He shrugged. For Peter, becoming the new leader of the Gnosi Realm was like returning to a home one has been away from for far too long. TheRoyalty Realm was never Cam’s home. Medulla had been and the small stone castle surrounded by forests. She could not return. Not yet. Not with the memory of traitors who once occupied the place lingering in every corridor. The past with Grandfather and Terra would only haunt the halls, haunt her heart. She would not return until the pain subsided somewhat.

  The ache in her chest only expanded at this thought.

  “I don’t know where my home is,” she replied. Peter turned to face her, his brow furrowing a bit.

  “Why, it’s the Royalty Realm of course. Your father will be a Royal and I presume they will find a sufficient position for you.”

  “That’s true, but I’m not a Spirit Follower…I think I want to…but I don’t know yet…and anyway, no one appointed me.” Instead of frowning more, Peter’s expression softened, and he shifted until his arm brushed hers.

  “You have time. I think you will be, one day.”

  “I don’t know that I want power,” Cam added, lifting her gaze to meet his.

  Peter suddenly laughed, the sound both sharp and merry.

  Cam could not see what was so amusing. He stood before her, his dark blue eyes glittering beneath the stars. “I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he said with a smile. Cam looked at him with puzzlement. “I’ve always been suspicious of people who desire power,” he said quietly. “When I first met you and learned you came to become a Royal, I naturally presumed you desired power. And then you told me you had no desire to be a Spirit Follower and that perhaps being a Royal is all you wanted” he paused, his eyes roving over her expression. He swallowed, his grinning expression being replaced by sincerity. “I know now that power isn’t what you want.”