Quiet voices broke through Shea’s slumber. Sleep beckoned her to return and she was about to comply when her name was mentioned.
“Do you think Shea will recover?”
“There’s nothing wrong with her.”
The other person seemed to be annoyed by the comment judging raised voice. Slightly raised. “Don’t be dense on purpose, you know what I mean! She hasn’t been herself the whole way back.”
Alec, for it was his voice Shea now recognised, hesitated before answering. “It’ll be fine. She’s a strong girl. Denni will bring her about the moment they wake up.”
“I guess,” the other, Lyra, sighed standing up. Plates clattered as she collected them, leaving the house after. Alec stayed for a bit longer, silent. Only his steady breathing could be heard through the doors left open a crack.
When he was gone, Shea decided to get herself out of bed. Sleep had deserted her and hunger made itself known. When was the last time she had a full meal? Anything to snack upon? She couldn’t remember.
Groaning, she pushed the covers off and went out in search of the canteen. To her surprise, instead of morning it was past midday. People were milling about, talking among themselves in subdued tones. A few seemed to want to ask her something, but their peers pulled them back.
What was that about?
Inside the canteen, the cook met her with a bright smile. The woman was middle aged with laughter wrinkles near her mouth and bright eyes. For a second, Shea wished she would look this nice and homely once age took her.
“How are you feeling?” the cook asked, bringing out a platter of potatoes with cooked meat beside. “Iago asked me to keep some extra for you and your friends if you woke up,” she answered the unvoiced question. Normally there was nothing left after a meal, this wasn’t a time or place to waste food. “Sorry, if it’s a bit cold. I tried to keep them hot for as long as I could but you know. It’s been almost a day…”
“It’s fine, thank you,” Shea thanked and taking the platter tried to smile. Pain laced through her face and she almost dropped the food.
After putting the platter on the table, she carefully touched her cheek. Winced, taking her finger away in an instant. It hurt and now she took notice of the constant passive pain on her face. She must have gotten used to it while sleeping so the constant throbbing didn’t surprise her once awake.
Her stomach growled at the delay.
Or she was too hungry. She eyed the platter of food. There would be time to check up on her injuries after the meal too. Quickly, she stuffed everything into her mouth, ignoring the pain acting up with every move of the jaw. There was nothing to be done about it. Not now at the least.
Once done, she sighed in appreciation. Her stomach was full, and though her cheek throbbed, it wasn’t too bad. If needed, she could ignore it altogether.
“Where are the others?” she asked the cook that had found something to occupy herself behind the counter. Cleaning or rearranging the kitchenware by the sounds of it.
“You should go ask Iago, he’s been taking care of them.”
“Would you know where he is now?” If anything, she should go and thank him for helping the others and her. The ointment he’d given her had cooled her bruise and she didn’t doubt would quicken the healing.
For all his faults, she was starting to believe he didn’t want to kill them all. Her reaction upon seeing those papers might have been a bit too premature. It could be that he truly just wanted to save everyone, human and monster alike. Not able to understand that the two races couldn’t coexist when one depended on killing the other to survive.
“Might be at the temple. I heard Mala saying in the morning she’ll ask for him to read the prayer later in the day.” The woman laughed. “Though, she was certain he’d refuse. Not a staunch believer material is our shaper.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Shea murmured, leaving the canteen.
Her thoughts were still on the topic of Iago’s actions. Was it really possible he didn’t understand the repercussions of what he did? Bringing a leech into the city? It didn’t seem likely. Iago often proclaimed his simple start, no noble him, but his knowledge far exceeded hers. He could read, write, shape like no other, use a sword, heal and probably do much more that he kept to himself.
How then, could such a person not be able to grasp what he was doing?
Unlikely. So very unlikely. But then, if he wanted them fed to the leech, why was he giving them food, restoring their faith and healing their wounds? The actions just didn’t add up!
Or was he plagued by the fact that he’d brought the leech? Maybe he hadn’t considered everything and this was his way of atonement? If she asked him about the death days ago, maybe she would see the suffering in him. That had to be it!
And yet, as she approached the temple where people crowded around something, or someone, doubts swirled in her mind. She couldn’t push away the feeling that she was missing something. But what, she couldn’t figure out.
“You have to! We need your help, please!” Mala’s voice cut through the air, the general public murmuring in consensus. “No one else besides you can do it! We wouldn’t ask you otherwise!”
There was a guttural growl in answer. “I’m not a priest.”
“We’re not asking you to be one! Just read one of the sermons. None of us are learned… Please!” the woman begged.
Shea came closer, wanting to see the confrontation more clearly. None of the spectators noticed her presence but Iago’s eyes shot straight to her face. She shifted, not really comfortable with him seeing her like this, but he didn’t pay it any heed.
Ignoring Mala, he went through the crowd that parted for him. His tone was soft as he spoke stopping a couple steps before her. “How are you feeling? I’m glad to see you up.”
“I’m fine,” she murmured, suddenly feeling heat infusing her cheeks. Maybe if she changed the topic, he would stop watching her like that. “Why won’t you read for them? It’s an honour to be granted priestly duties.”
“I’m not a da--” he snapped and her eyes jumped at the curse which he bit down. As they stared at each other, his gaze turned speculative. “If I remember well… you lived at the temple, didn’t you?”
“Yeah..?” She answered uncertainly, wondering where he was going with it.
“And your mother was a priestess too, you must be able to read. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Fear grasped her heart in its cold fingers. Had he guessed? Did he notice the disturbed stack of papers? But she tried to put them back the way they were before! Will he accuse her now? Tell everyone she was the snooping type? Someone that entered the homes of others without invitation?
Before she could work herself into any more of the stupor, he turned to the surrounding people. They had watched their interaction, not one wandering away.
“I have just the way to solve all your problems - her!” he said, pointing in Shea’s direction. “Ask her to read for you, and teach it. I’m certain she’ll be great at it.”
“But you…” Mala started, not finding words to express her feelings without insulting Shea. “You’ve been here more, you’ve lived in this place…”
Iago raised his eyebrow as if asking what did that have to do with anything. Then he shook his head, the wild red hair had grown longer since they’ve met and now danced in a whirlpool of colour. “Unlike me, she’s lived in a temple before. Besides, my hand is a scrawl. Nor do I have the patience for teaching. You’ll be better off having her, no contest there.”
Shea’s head swivelled in his direction. A scrawl? His handwriting was extremely neat and easy to read! She opened her mouth to say just that, before clamping both hands over it.
“Is something the matter?” Iago asked her with an amused look.
She shook her head. It was a close call. She almost admitted she’d been to his room. Without him present. And went through his things.
“It’s decided then, you’ll help these people with their priestly problems until one of them can take over. Good luck!”
And faster than she could blink, he was gone.
Others were as surprised as her at his sudden departure and it took them time to rearrange their minds to what had happened. Then all their eyes landed on her. She bridled at all the attention but before she could make her escape too, Mala grabbed her hand.
“Is it true that your mother was a priestess?”
She nodded. “Of Lady Nature.”
“Then you can read from the holy books, right? It would be fitting, yes?”
Her mother had taught her the basics of priesthood even though Shea had never planned to join the ranks. Though, that was wrong. She never considered it to be more precise. In her mind, mother was going to live forever, always be there so there was no need for another priestess.
“Yeah…” she answered, trying to remember the scriptures. They were often written in an older, more profound writing style without using any common short ends or simplified words. Everything was made to sound ancient and profound, even if the events had happened not a year ago.
It wouldn’t be easy to read something like that but she was certain she could manage. Mother had been persistent about her learning the older dialect to not miss the meaning of the books. She said that to understand the Lady’s teachings it was paramount to be able to glimpse into the past and learn from it.
Mala tugged at her hands. “Come then, we have the books set up in the temple. Everyone’s been eager to have them read, hear the Lady’s word and pray to her but we all saw how skittish Iago was being about the subject.” She shook her head. “Today we dared to broach the subject and you saw what happened. I don’t understand what’s in his head... He helps us repair the temple, cleaning heavy boulders for days but the moment we ask him to sit down and read, he runs away in a heartbeat! Maybe you know what’s gotten into him?”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The woman’s question came out of nowhere and Shea staggered in her step. “Me? How could I know?”
“You know the most of anyone, having travelled with him before coming here, don’t you?”
Shea chuckled, embarrassed. “If only that was true. He talked very little about himself, being solely focused on survival.” There were a couple things she’d learnt about him during their travels, that he had a large family before the destruction, that it was dead now but that wasn’t something to share here. Nor did it shed much light on his actions anyway.
There were a couple sighs from the crowd at her words and the conversation between her and Mala died down. They walked to the temple in silence. In the doorway Evic met them. He was dressed in a fine suit, prepared for a special occasion.
His attire surprised Shea and she cast a surreptitious glance to the people behind her. Now that she was paying attention, she noticed that all of them wore their finest garb. Or well, the finest they could find that fit their size. This led to some wearing king-like layered robes in brilliant colours while others were dressed in simple clean linen shirts and trousers.
Quickly Mala told Evic the change of plans and led Shea through the corridor into the mass hall. It was of adequate size, fit for fifty or so people. Benches and stools occupied the majority of the room. Most of them were different in size, colour and design, making it clear they were recently brought here.
Then her eyes rested on the pedestal and the regal statue on it. The Lady stood tall and proud, with a gentle smile on her lips overlooking her sons and daughters. Her ethereal blue body was draped in a used sand coloured cloak which gave her a strange down to earth feel. Like she had descended to take a look and haven’t found them lacking. The smile promised her love and caring, no matter what disasters struck them and how hard it became.
Tears welled in Shea’s eyes as she stared at the beautiful and kind face. She could almost see the Lady whispering her encouragement, telling her she was doing well; like her mother had done when Shea was faced with a challenging task. It was a sweetly bitter feeling.
“If you don’t mind?” Mala asked, pointing to the bookcase filled with thick old volumes. Most showed their age while others bad treatment by the disaster. There were scorch marks on some, tears on others. She stepped into the room and went to the books.
No names were written on the backs so she picked the first volume and opened it. “The Hazards of Lady Malice”. It was a familiar tale, one her mother read often when arguments arose in the village. It taught a hard lesson, that anger and fury, revenge seeking, never solved anything. People were who they were and by hurting others you were destroying your own soul.
The tale itself, though, was somewhat more ambiguous when her mother tended to share with the villagers. Her explanations focused on the emptiness the person felt after taking his revenge, the abyss his conscience put him in while shying away from what else may have lain at the heart of the story.
It had never caught Shea’s attention before but now she wondered whether this was the right tale for her to read. Not being a priestess, she could provide no explanations, no directions for thoughts. People would have to make their own conclusions about the lesson and in their circumstances very differentiating ideas could arise.
“Is something the matter?” Mala asked gently, hovering just behind Shea. She shook her head, holding the volume with both hands and moved to the chair standing opposite all the benches, not far from the Lady’s statue.
Sitting down, Shea opened the book. The first few lines were a struggle to read but soon she fell into the rhythm, her voice raising and falling with the events of the story.
The young man’s horror as his family was murdered, the consuming rage that overtook him. He then ignored his sweetheart’s pleas and set out to hunt the bandits, on his way meeting band of mercenaries, a group of guards who joined him on his quest. They had no money to travel, so they all hired out at times, doing things that the young man wouldn’t have done were it his choice.
But the rage burned strong in him and he did unspeakable things to survive and reach the bandits. His soul cried at the destruction and sorrow he brought but with time it quieted, became used to the horrors.
Their large group became well known mercenaries as they hunted for the elusive bandit leader. That man had made himself scarce after learning about the hunt and only rarely did any news of him reach the young man.
It were thirty years before the two met and the young man, now over fifty, sated his youth’s desire. He felt no relief for achieving his goal. To his surprise, it was just another death. He’d seen so many of them, they had stopped mattering. Still, he clung to his belief that it mattered and leaving his band of mercenaries he returned home.
Few recognised him. His house was overgrown and open to the elements from disrepair. His sweetheart had married and walked with a bunch of rosy cheeked children surrounding her.
Reaching the graves, he told his parents and sisters that he avenged them. He had made it all right. Things were now equal between them and the world. Then his downcast eyes landed on his gnarled hands, the weak left knee where an arrow had once penetrated it. He lumbered towards the unkempt house and throwing down his gear laid down with his bag for a pillow.
She finished the last lines in almost a whisper, her mind with the old fighter. What did he think of his life? Did he regret it? Was his sleep an allegory for death or did he continue on living, trying to make something of the remainder of his life? The story told none of it.
It was often so with the tales of the Lady, but this was one of the more ambiguous ones. So sad and tragic, yet without any moralising. There was not a single word that blamed the young man, made him look foolish or stupid.
For a time in the silence Shea wondered who had written this and other tales. It was said they came from ages past and that made sense, they all had a similar taste to them. More than likely they were written by the same author yet who? Lady herself? That was dubious. Then who would presume to know the Lady’s mind and teach her children of it?
There was movement among the benches. An old man rose to his feet and went forward. He sent her a nod and stopping before the Lady’s smiling form gave her a stiff bow. His lips formed soundless words that were only between him and the Lady.
When he was done, others came one by one to bow, touch the Lady’s cloak or fall before her on their knees. All of that were followed by silent prayers and pleas, promises and wishes. The sun had long set down before the last person shared their heart with the Lady.
Shea stood then, moving to put the book in its rightful place. She brushed over the rest of the covers behind the glass window before closing it up and leaving the building. Mala and Evic were waiting for her outside but they didn’t say anything. Yet it wasn’t an oppressive silence. Contemplative, if she had to give it a word.
The two bade her goodbye when they reached the house where everyone not soldier resided. She smiled at their departure and prepared to return to her room too. Before she reached the barracks, though, Tyr waved at her from one of the dark alleys.
“Hey! Come! There’s so much we need to talk about!”
“There is?”
“Yes, yes! After so much happened! Come!” He grabbed her hand and would have dragged her if she hadn’t started running with him. It was no more than five minutes until they reached their secret hideout.
Tyr slowed them then, looking at the shadows suspiciously. Shea peered at them too but didn’t see anything unusual. After a moment, he pulled her through a crack in the wall, past a corridor, through a crumbled celery and into a candle lit room.
“You prepared everything?” Shea exclaimed in joy, moving to make herself comfortable in a weird pillow like chair. It was fluffy, made solely of something stuffed into a red cloth and heavenly. She’d never sat in anything more comfortable in her life, she imagined the clouds felt like this.
Her companion laughed at her obvious joy, and she smiled back. Pretending she didn’t miss the comfort of his hand in hers. It was too embarrassing.
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked while hiding her hands in the folds of her robe.
“What happened, now I’m certain that what you were telling is the truth! That man has a demon under his thumb!”
Shea could only look at him dumbfounded. What was he going on about? Iago has a demon? The leech, sure, but what did that have to do with anything? She had seen no monsters on their way, and no one was attack in the city.
“He came! He came without knowing anything! How he could have known! We were too far! Exploring? That was a pathetic excuse! He never cared about exploring before, so why now?” Tyr burst out, his eyes burning with a furious fire.
One she didn’t share. “Maybe he recognised the building? He’s well-learned…” Her weak attempt at trying to diffuse the fuming anger within Tyr only helped to fan the flames. He shot to his feet and started pacing the small room. Candles flickered as he went by them in a rush.
“That’s it! He’s so learned yet pretend to be of low birth! No one believes him any more yet he sticks to his lies! Look what happened near the temple, he said his writing was terrible but even an illiterate me could tell it wasn’t so! His penmanship was clean and distinct!”
He was speaking Shea’s own fears and worries. When she had almost accepted him, Iago went and lied again. Why did he do that? What did he want to achieve? Why couldn’t he simply tell the truth?
Tyr was still going. “He’s hiding something and that’s obvious! We need to figure out how he controls the leech and kill it! Only then can we protect our people!” He stopped mid-pacing, looking at her from his superior height. “You understand it, right? We need to stop him no matter what!”
It took her a moment to nod. She knew that the leech had to be destroyed, it was the only way to protect everyone, but she had a feeling the ‘he’ that needed stopping wasn’t the monster. Iago… She wished desperately to understand him but no divine knowledge descended on her.
That man was an enigma if there ever was one. He was helping and killing them at the same time. What was his goal? What did he want? Was anything she knew about him true? The answer could be no, for all she knew. He lied so much… nothing, or no one, could prevent him from creating a whole new past for himself.
A soft thump brought her to the present. Shocked she saw Tyr on his knees before her. He grabbed her hands, staring straight into her eyes. “You will help us, right? You’re our only chance when fighting that deceiver. Please, promise me you’ll help us! Without you we have no chance of standing up against his power!”
“It’s okay, I - I will!” Shea staggered out, quickly taking her hands free and almost falling over the fluff chair in her rush to get away. “You don’t need to beg me! I won’t let anything bad happen to anyone!” she exclaimed finding remnants of her scattered conviction.
If Iago was truly planning something, she will stop him. It would have to be done no matter how wrong she thought it was. The survivors’ well-being was the top priority. They didn’t deserve to be someone’s playthings, or test subjects. Even if that person was her saviour.
Tyr’s face shone with happiness and he walked to a corner, bending over something. Shea watched him with interest, taking a couple small steps closer. He turned with a small box in his hands. It was of dark wood engraved with silver lilies that gleamed in the candle light.
“What is it?” she asked coming closer.
Instead of answering, he opened the box. Inside lay a dozen or so small square pieces of something. She picked one and brought it closer to the candle. It started melting in her hand! Squealing in surprise, she whirled on Tyr. “What is it?”
“A rich people sweet!” the boy laughed, popping one of the candies into his mouth and chewing with glee. His expression was so satisfactory, Shea didn’t wait longer either.
It was a taste like nothing she’d tasted before. A touch of bitterness but at the same time very sweet. Not able to control herself she reached for another piece. Tyr extended the box without reservation and they shared the spoils of his wanderings for a time.
“When did you find it?” Shea asked when the sweets were gone and her mouth was finally free for speaking.
“In the morning, I woke up early and couldn’t fall asleep. Thought I might follow the shaper a bit but he was spending all his time in the temple so I wandered off…” he said sheepishly.
Following the shaper… Shea’s mood darkened. Her friend was working so hard trying to figure out what he opponent was up to, risking himself and what had she done? Sat, slept and got in everyone’s way until she herself no longer knew what she was thinking.
The path before her now was clear. She had to stop Iago’s plan, whatever it was. But to be certain of victory, she had to become stronger. Her current power was not enough to face him. His talent might be less than hers, but he was so much more adept at using it to its fullest capabilities.
It was time for her to take her fate into her own hands. She would learn and then make him return to the light. Once the leech was killed and his lies exposed, he would have nowhere to run and would come clean to them. All she had to do was make certain that he had no way out. She would have to become so much stronger than him, that he didn’t dare defy her. Just like he didn’t dare to fight the Mistress living in the mansion to the north.
A shudder passed through her body. She didn’t like remembering the terrible power that woman controlled but Shea didn’t need to become like her to overpower Iago. He had been right when he said he was nothing in comparison even to her. Her talent was a sky reaching oak to his measly shrub of a power.
If she learned to use her talent, he wouldn’t stand a chance. And now she was going to do it. For the first time in her life, she had a reason to learn, to want to improve. This was her fight, and she intended to win.