by Kayla Maya
Bryn stood rooted to the spot. This woman would give her answers, yet Bryn didn’t know any questions to ask because she had no idea just exactly what she was getting into. However, if this woman was willing to give her the answers to her questions, then what stopped Bryn from going forth with it? The fact that she had no idea who these people were, for starters, and the fact that she didn’t know if she could trust them as well. She barely trusted North, but that small seed of doubt sprouted into a seed of trust that was growing for North. Bryn sighed. She had to take Grace’s offer, not for the answers, but for a place to stay since she had no idea where she would stay in Baltimore, for example.
“Alright, I’ll bite. Lead the way, Grace.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The inside of the church was just as marvelous as the outside. The interior held dozens of pews, with a stage set up front with a pedestal that housed a closed book. Upon further inspection, the book had the same symbol of the crow. Just like North’s pendant, just like the mosaic picture up front, and just like Sister Grace’s own pendant that rested above her breast. This would be Bryn’s first question. Who, and what, were the Order of the Crow and find out just who they served in the first place? Grace led Bryn throughout the ornately sized church. There were bunks for refugees of the “Fallen Religion” or so-called by Grace herself. There were bunks for her brethren, a large kitchen that housed bustling cooks and servants as they cooked, baked, and fried. Finally, they reached the infirmary wing where North was, but unfortunately, it was off-limits until North was in better shape. Back at the front of the church with the pews, Grace led Bryn to a small door that opened up to a rather large office, no doubt for Grace herself being the main priestess of the Order.
“Sit, please.” Grace sat at her desk, shuffling up her papers at the top and pulling out a journal with the same crow crest embedded on the front. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”
“Not really, no.” Bryn sat, glancing around the room. It was barren, devoid of any color, anything that could clue Bryn in as to who exactly Sister Grace was. “But we can start with the basics. What is the Order of the Crow?”
“Ah, an origin story. I was going to start there anyway,” Grace chuckled. “When I was fifteen, I was set to marry the king of Alkali. I was beaten and stripped of my family name within a matter of minutes of our wedding day. This scar,” Grace pointed at her scar. “Is the result of me killing the king one night in his sleep. I was hunted and nearly killed. But, while I was in the Alkali desert, I found an oasis, and there, I found a man named Corvus. He proclaimed himself the Crow God, and he sought me out to do his holy duty. I was trained and then sent to various kingdoms to find those loyal to him and only him. The Old Religion was destroyed in four years thanks to my help. Corvus was proud of me, named me his most loyal disciple, and gave me my own church, which I so named after him. The Church of Corvus.
“We call ourselves the Order of the Crow for a reason. We strip our old names, shed our religions, and start anew. I kept my name because I wanted it to remind me of what I had endured becoming a loyal disciple of Corvus. We serve our one and only god, Corvus. Those who oppose us learn the hard way. Other religions are fine, mostly. The Crow God picks and chooses what religion stays and what goes. It’s something that he relays to me, which I, in turn, choose a disciple to carry out the order. We serve a higher power Bryn; we serve the one who will make this world a better place once more. Skeg is only the beginning. We will liberate the ones who need it, mend the broken, and, ultimately, make the world a better place all around. Now, any other questions?”
Bryn sat silent, her mind whirling as the story took root in her mind. Gods weren’t real, that much was instilled in her mind when she was but a small child when she would ask her father why the gods had abandoned them. “Gods aren’t real, my little raven,” her father would tell her. “Those stories are fake, something that we shouldn’t let take root in our minds. Ever.” However, she could sense truth in Grace’s voice, sense that the scarred woman truly believed what she had seen, what she had done. Bryn allowed a small seed of truth to sprout, but she did not know if she would water it to make it real. For all she knew, this could all be a trick, and she was about to be killed for speaking ill of the King of Serena, if not for even thinking of it. Still, she now had questions to ask.
“You say Corvus the Crow God revealed himself to you in an oasis. Yet, I’ve not seen this god, nor have I seen any in my lifetime,” Bryn said.
“I understand your hesitation,” Grace acknowledged. “However, I would not be sitting in this position without having a small seed of truth. The gods, or rather, god, are real. There used to be so many, but they are gone because of my work. The Fallen Religion is now what it is called. As for Corvus revealing himself to me, that was merely pure luck, or it was my destiny to serve a higher power. Perhaps he put me in your path for a reason.”
Bryn highly doubted that. Still, that small seed was watered by her words, the seed now sprouting a small bright green stalk. “While we were outside the city. This man called me a ‘Zephyr.’ I’ve not the slightest idea what he was talking about. And then you mentioned a Galen, which I too, do not know.”
“Skeg is not known to harbor anyone with magic, due to the conditions there. You, my dear, would be the first to have any magic. But a Zephyr is someone who can bend the wind to their will, use it for any means necessary, or in this case, to help an old man with a wheel out of the way.”
“How did you know that?”
“I know all. I see all. That is what my duties entail. Now, as for a Galen, they are the male versions of a Galena, which are healers. Gaea’s are those who can control the earth. Do you get the picture? There are names for every person who can use magic. But, as I said before, no one in Skeg had held magic before, so it is never talked about. Before you ask, yes, I know what magic users like you are called. Care to learn?” Bryn nodded her excitement, and Grace smiled, going back to what she was saying. “For those that can control the storms, they are called ‘Cyclones.’ I have a few disciples that can teach you a thing or two about how to use your magic, but first, we must talk business.”
“What sort of business? Is it the reason that I’m here in the first place?” Bryn asked.
“Correct.” Grace nodded. “You were selected for your skills of being a thief. You see, the King of Serena needs to be dethroned, and to do that we need your help. I need you to penetrate the castle and take his mask.”
“His mask? What does his mask have to do with anything?”
“His mask was created by yours truly. I created that mask, created him. I molded him into being what a king should be, and he betrayed us. That mask holds back his affliction, his curse.”
“If he has a curse, and the mask prevents it, then why take it in the first place?” Bryn’s questions seemed to just flow from her tongue, her interests being piqued every time Grace opened her mouth.
“The mask prevents his curse, yes, but without it, he will perish. When he—”
“I’m not going to kill anyone,” Bryn stood. “I’m no killer. I may steal, I may lie, but I will never kill anyone.”
“I’m not asking you to kill him. Simply, aid us in getting a better life for everyone. I’m sure your family will like the coin that I can provide to them if you aid us.”
“And if I said no?”
“Then you are free to walk away, but I will not shed a single coin to you or your family, and you can continue to live in poverty. The choice is yours, Bryn.”
Bryn sat back down, pondering what Sister Grace had just told her. If she stayed and did what Grace wanted her to do, her family would no doubt get paid for her services. However, it bothered her that this woman, this woman that claims to be righteous, claims to serve a higher purpose, would go to such lengths to have a king killed for being unfaithful. While it did bother Bryn, it also meant that she could aid in the purification of her own town, of her own people. If anything, it gave her a
purpose and food for her family—coins for getting something that Bryn loved to do best. But, a small seed of doubt still spread, a small voice telling her to think on it, to maybe even talk to North about it.
“Can I think it over first?” Bryn asked.
Sister Grace nodded. “Of course. You are welcome to stay in the church as long as you like. As for North, he should be better by now. I’ll have you set to a room first, and he will know where to find you if he wants to talk with you. Sister Victoria, please come escort Miss Bryn to her room if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Thank you.” Bryn stood as a red-haired young woman strode in.
“I’ll see you later tonight, Bronwyn, for tonight, we feast!”
Bryn wandered her room. The length of the room was small, very small. There were just a bed and a wall. She could take two steps and hit the wall with her toes. She sighed. One good thing about being a thief meant she knew how to get out of sticky situations, and in this case, a very small living space. She opened the door, poking her head out and surveying the area. The hall was quiet, not a single disciple anywhere. Just how Bryn preferred it to be. As she crept out of the room, she began to make her way down the hall, hearing dozens of hoots and hollers, and different types of music. She stopped, craning her neck to the noise. She was so unaware of her surroundings that when North spoke behind her, she jumped.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he told her. “I just came to see how you were faring.”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” She turned, her mouth turning up at the corners seeing his handsome face. Her smile faded, seeing his injured arm placed upwards in a sling, and his whole face was lit up with pain. “Does your wound still hurt?”
“A little. I think Zach’s herbs have worn off. Anyway, I came to take you out for a stroll. I know it’s already late, but there’s enough time to go wander the city if you wanted.” He added.
Bryn wanted so badly to go and survey the city with North, however, seeing the way he favored his arm and the pain-stricken face he held, she couldn’t bear to have him walking around with her. At least not yet anyway. She sighed and offered him a warm smile. “No, I think I’ll have a rain check. You’re in pain, North, and it’s my fault. How about tomorrow or some other time?”
“I’d like that. Care to join me for dinner then?” North held out the crook of his arm. “I heard that they are serving duck tonight. Ever had that?”
Bryn looped her arm through his, offering him another smile. “No, but I’m eager to try it. Shall we?”
“We shall.”
The inside of the dining room was quite large for a church. Dozens of kids raced about holding sticks, or just running around at each other. The adults all sat at various tables, drinks in hands, and cheeks flustered from the too many drinks they had. At the head of the room was one raised table with Sister Grace eating a small rack of lamb, a goblet in hand. She had her head on her chin, eyes surveying the room. Her eyes lit up as she spotted both North and Bryn.
“Come sit!” Grace gestured with her goblet, the red contents spilling on the sides. “The main course is about to be served!”
Bryn took a seat beside North, grabbing her own goblet of red liquid. One sniff and she knew instantly that it was red wine. It was probably the least of her favorite alcoholic drinks, but it was the one her father always drank on special occasions. She mentally shook herself for thinking of him. She planned on no longer thinking of him long ago, and she was not about to break that promise she had made herself keep. The servers came and went; the tables filled to the brim of various dishes, and other weird concoctions that Bryn wrinkled her nose. Food in Skeg was scarce, so to her, these foods were more or less something she didn’t find appetizing in the least.
Sister Grace stood, holding up her goblet. “Remember who we serve.”
All at once, the disciples stood, goblets in hand as they all chanted, “We stalk the night. We prey on the strong to give to the weak. We are the Order of the Crow.”
North and the rest all sat down at once, leaving Bryn with a chill that ran up her spine. What on earth have I gotten myself into? Bryn thought.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bryn waited for North out in the gardens in the back of the church, hearing the waves hit the shores a little farther in the city. She couldn’t hold in her excitement at seeing the rest of Baltimore and seeing the sea. Too giddy with excitement, Bryn decided to wander the length of the garden. There were tons of flowers and bushes with vibrant berries and various types of birds as they sang and danced around. The small arch that she was seated under was covered with vines and white flowers that bloomed in the sunlight. Bryn was surprised that her emotions hadn’t gotten haywire to the point that the storms came crashing in. For once, she felt…happy. At least as happy as she could be.
“Ready to go?” North asked.
Bryn couldn’t hide the smile that broke across her face. She was beyond ready to go. To explore the city. North covered his face with his hood, bringing out his crow necklace to rest alongside his chest, and seeing his necklace made Bryn finger her own, her mind wandering back to her father. Did he somehow know that she had the ability to control the storms? Did he know that his eldest daughter was a Cyclone? She shook her head and looped her arm through North’s as he offered it to her. Together they walked out of the garden and straight into a busy street. Being around so many people, all with jewels and dangerously expensive clothing, made the thief in her come to life. Bryn stamped it down, sweat beading on her forehead as she tried desperately to hide her thievery.
“Where to first?” North asked. “The ocean?”
She wanted to say yes, but her mind had other options. “How about the library? Do they have any books on those like us who can use magic?”
“They do,” he acknowledged, “but you’re better off reading the journals Sister Grace has on the individual magics. Hers are more updated, and they are from notorious kings and queens who held the magic we do.”
“Oh.”
They walked in silence, passing person after person, all dressed in a fancy manner. It made Bryn’s stomach flip flop, seeing all the nicely dressed men and women. Almost as if North knew what she was thinking, he steered them to the right and right in front of a small shop with a hanging sign that said, “The Gilded Woman.” Bryn cocked her head to the side, eyebrows raised as North ushered her in and straight to the shopkeeper. The woman was slightly plump with chestnut hair wrapped tightly in a bun, with two pins sticking out of it. She was smartly dressed, complete with make-up and an apron-like most shopkeepers had.
“Who is this beauty with you, Brother North?” The plump woman smiled with bright red painted lips.
“Olga, this is Bryn, Bryn this is Olga.” North introduced.
Bryn glanced down at herself. She was hardly considered this “beauty” this Olga woman proclaimed her to be. Her raven hair was in knots from not brushing it for a few days, her skin coated in dirt and grime. Even her clothes, which were tattered in some places, hardly made Bryn appear to be beautiful. Only her amber eyes were bright and vibrant, if not a little haunted from her past. Yeah, this Olga woman was blind.
“Why don’t I leave you in Olga’s care for a bit?” North suggested. “I have an errand to run for Sister Grace really quick, so that should give Olga enough time to take care of you and treat you.”
Bryn’s nose wrinkled in disgust. Did she really smell that bad? Probably. Reluctantly she nodded, watching as North walked out of the store and into the street. His body disappeared instantly in the crowd, making Bryn stand on her tiptoes to try and see where he had gone in such a short few moments. She turned as Olga held out a white tunic and black pants. Bryn couldn’t help but bite her tongue from saying something she shouldn’t in front of the woman that North placed Bryn in Olga’s care. This should be fun.
“Your boyfriend is rather nice,” Olga stated. “I never thought Brother North would ever find a woman to love, yet here you are.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Bryn muttered.
“Well, come with me now,” Olga continued like Bryn hadn’t spoken. “Let’s start by cleaning you up a bit, yeah?”
Bryn had forgotten what it was like to have a hot bath. The tub was steaming, with bubbles frothing along the surface. The water smelt like lilacs and peaches a sweet and savory smell that she couldn’t help but love. Throwing herself in the water, she began to scrub her body clean. After scrubbing the same spots for a few minutes, it finally came away clean, but red and itchy from the skin being rubbed away and raw. It was worth it though, Bryn finally felt clean, and she hoped she smelt better now too. She spent longer in the bath than she should have, but she was worried about never again having a bath this nice. Bryn forced herself out of the tub, wrapping herself in a towel just as Olga walked in with the clothes, she had shown Bryn earlier in the day.
“Change into these,” she instructed. “I even polished those boots you had on.”
Bryn thanked the gods for this nice woman. She thanked the other woman and proceeded to change into the new clothes, loving the way they felt along her now pink and clean skin. She sat down by the vanity in the room, examining her hair and wincing, seeing how knotty and unkempt it looked. Her hair had always been long, long enough that it reached to her waist, and she was frightened that she might have to get it cut because of how she hadn’t treated it right. Olga floated in moments later with a steaming mug of tea, and a small bag slung over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cut your hair,” Olga inspected her head. “There is too much damage, and if I brush it, I’ll no doubt leave bald spots on your head. Oh, don’t worry,” she added, seeing Bryn’s shocked face. “I won’t cut it all off. I’d say to your shoulders, and it will grow in no time, I’m sure.”