I buzzed my way through the winding halls of the castle until I got to the nearest open window. I dove headlong into the veritable tempest created at such a high altitude, at least by the standards of my currently tiny body, and got tossed around until I was far enough out of sight that I could safely shape shift back into a bird without being spotted by a random servant.
I stretched my senses so that I could keep an eye on Calden no matter how far away I got, just for safety’s sake, and because I doubted that the conversation they were going to have with Linus contained anything I hadn’t heard already.
Not to mention that they’re definitely going to be blabbing about me, and for my own sake, I’d just rather be oblivious, thank you very much.
Just the thought of how drastically some of their dispositions and levels of trust had changed since meeting them was enough to make my skin crawl. Sure, it’s very flattering, but there’s such a thing as too much, too soon.
Anyway, I had more pressing concerns to take care of, so I shifted my wings and rode the now more reasonable wind down toward the nearest building that looked like a temple.
Time to find out what they’ve made of my little rampage.
There were several of the rather impressive structures in the city, split between the inner and middle districts, with one or two considerably smaller, more run down ones poking up in the outer one.
They ranged in appearance from a typical cathedral to more Islamic, Buddhist, and even Shinto looking shrines and temples. However, each and all were a bit off from the designs and depictions of deities that the old earth had; after all they were dedicated to the various powers that dwelled in this region instead.
Or so I can only assume.
I alighted outside the most grandiose of the structures first, as it was obviously Matweirden’s, but more to find out what the crowd of mostly animal featured people gathered outside for.
After all, with my senses stretched toward the castle I can’t eavesdrop as easily, but I’m more than able to compensate in my unassuming pudgy pigeon form.
The elderly tiger-eared priest on the podium at the top of the polished marble stairs wore orange and black vestments, had a generally wild look in his eyes and even wilder wisps of gray hair as he swung his arms around during his animated oration. “And that is why good people! This is a sign! The sign we’ve been waiting for in these dark times! A sign that Lady Matweirden has returned her favor to us! Witnesses claim that none other than Calden Dresdeth was among those at the scene of the messenger's revelation, and he was so moved by her eminent power that tears flowed from his young eyes! Rejoice! Rejoice! For today we are saved!”
I cocked my head. Messenger? Is that who they think I am? I guess that’s not too weird since I was beating a message into that tiger guy’s thick skull, but I definitely don’t work for this Matweirden person.
Satisfied with my discovery, and the fact that the people weren’t panicking or being used, I took off and continued on my way.
The next shrine I visited looked fairly oriental in design. Long scroll-like tapestries depicted something akin to a cross between a Kirin and a hippocamp dashing through the clouds. The interior of the open floor plan building looked empty, so I followed several Japanese torii arches over to a rock filled zen garden, where a group of monk-types sat cross legged at the center of a gathering of more ordinary looking people.
The head monk calmly stroked his fu manchu and spoke in a soft, even tone. “This is a grave sign. The winged judge has descended and brought his wrath down upon us. Though we were spared this time, we must recommit ourselves to the teachings of Zomm, and free ourselves from our earthly trappings to be as light and free as the clouds. That way the winds of ruin can carry us to shama-lah and not ageless agony.”
The other monks nodded deeply, and the gathered people swayed to and fro before lowering their heads to the stony ground in some sorta prayer.
Well, at least they aren’t trying to cause a commotion so I guess I’ll let them make of my little outburst whatever they please–not that I know what this Shama-lah place is or where it might be.
Just then, Uriel buzzed.
Shama-lah is the home of the terrestrial deity Zomm. It is said to be a paradise in the clouds where the souls of his faithful gather, but is actually just his home--no souls present.
Huh. Well, I guess that makes sense. Even with immense magical power I doubt they could go around messing with something as precious as people’s souls.
Curiosity satiated, I fluttered away and only stopped by each of the other religious organizations long enough to verify that they weren’t trying to cause chaos or use my actions to justify some crusade or other similarly crazy cause.
As I passed each I made sure to check who each sanctum was dedicated to. Within the inner rung of the city was Matweirden, obviously, Zomm, a fish/squid creature called Gretkarn, and a dragon named Darmcorith. They were all pretty opulent and Uriel informed me that they were either the most powerful or closest to this city.
The middle part of the city had a tree man dubbed Hathawary, some kinda turtle snake named Obsythian, a thunder serpent called Regoritx, a vulture with a frog’s pouch and tongue named Yamatic, and a three headed axolotl called Hal-rokshir. These temples were well cared for and impressive in size, their followers weren’t as numerous, but clear in their support for a creature a decent distance away.
Overall their takes on my actions were varied. All of them took it as some kind of sign, but as to what always surprised me. Some called it as part of a vague prophecy to either doom or salvation–with one even claiming it just meant there’d be a good harvest this year. Others proclaimed that I was a messenger signifying that a celebration was to be held early this year or that a set sacrifice needed to be moved up or increased in volume. While others still proclaimed my appearance as a challenge to their faith or the defeat of a rival faith, but since all they did was party or pray I left them alone.
All in all, nothing too out of the ordinary for religious groups. I even went and checked the priests and monks but none of them had any dangerous sounding titles or abilities so I let their more monetary claims pass as honest devotion rather than some underhanded attempt to line their own pockets.
As for the outer parts of the city, it was much quieter. There were only two temples after all, and the rundown shrine to a mantis-like creature named Torath’neth was utterly empty, while the shabby church I just landed on appeared to have a quiet service in session.
Its assembly was inside, but I was easily able to squeeze in through one of the many holes in the roof, where I found my way over the priest by waddling along a rafter.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Down below, a balding forty something knelt before an altar at the head of a group of around twenty or so hard on their luck looking families also kneeling in front of several rows of benches.
Their quiet communion lasted for a few minutes before the priest in white vestments rose, turned around, and bowed. “Thank you all for gathering here today. I know the magic released outside today was frightening, but the creator has a reason for everything he does and through his servant’s actions we learn how to be closer to him.”
I gulped, well, I thought about gulping, my pigeon self wasn’t really all that good at it. Please tell me that he’s not about to advocate violence as a solution to problems! Please tell me that he won’t!
“As many of us have heard, if not witnessed for ourselves, the servant of the creator descended to deliver fierce judgment upon the son of our lord Count. But before the deadly verdict could be reached, the execution was stayed. But why? Why would he do this? Why spare the sinner? Do any of you know?”
I couldn’t sigh, but I definitely plopped down on my feathered fanny in relief.
A few murmurs rippled through the faithful as they more asked then answered.
“To give another chance?”
“To show his grace?”
“Because he wasn’t a sinner?”
The priest nodded at each in turn, accepting all answers with a benevolent smile. “He spared the sinner because he was asked to.”
Gasps of surprise replaced looks of confusion. But before they could get too carried away the preacher continued. “I saw with my own two eyes as the clawed hand of death was raised. Every fiber of my soul was sucked into that simple action, and I waited, breathless, fearful to my core, for it to fall and claim Lord Ymir’s life. Eternity seemed to stretch out before me, but instead of letting it end in tragedy Lady Ysdra called out and begged for the sentence to be commuted.”
More muttering broke out and the puzzled looks from before returned, silently asking him, why?
He raised his arms and confidently declared. “Because the creator is merciful! And through this, once again, teaches us to be so in turn. Just as Lord Ymir offended the servant of God but was forgiven, so too must we set aside our anger and forgive our kith and kin–regardless of race–of their transgressions.”
I bubbled with warmth. At last, a reasonable take! And all I had to do to find it was trek back to the slums… I took a better look at the poor people gathered here. Not a single one was at full health, and quite a few had a cough or other more serious illness. Well, I’m certainly not going to let this stand.
I waited through the service looking for an opportunity to intervene and finally got one when they lined up to be blessed. The priest didn’t use any magic like I’d seen at the other temples, as he both lacked the mana and the help to treat everyone, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t.
Minor regeneration. Sight restore. Light heal.
The list went on and on as I poured out my magic onto them as needed.
Most had only cuts and bruises, but for those who were actually sick or diseased I had Uriel identify the malady and recommend the best spell that I knew to help them.
Heck one poor guy was blind in one eye, and broke down in tears after I unclouded his eye. Plus, it’s good to know that my double standards ability can apply to other aspects of my spells since most body recovery magic would require me to actually touch them before it could activate, but I’ve had no problems casting from here.
It should go without saying that the priest noticed that something was up after the more major maladies started to disappear after he said the blessing. However, all that did was put a grand smile on his face and ignite a hopeful fire in his eyes as the people filed up, were healed, and celebrated on their way back to their seats.
I know the feeling, guy, and share the sentiment. I may not be God, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help where I’m able… But what’s this warmth I’m getting? It kinda feels like what I used earlier to smite the blight, but why and how am I getting it now?
Once everyone was settled, the ecstatic priest faced the altar once again, knelt down, and bowed his head. The people followed suit. Then he raised his arms and said, “Praise be to you, our merciful God. For your benevolence, for your generosity, and for your patience. Without you we would be nothing, and without your grace, to nothing we would return. Thank you especially for the miracles we’ve witnessed and experienced this day, that we may forever remember all you've done and continue to do for us, even and especially when your hand remains unseen.”
The crowd practically shouted “Amen!” And then departed, still touching and testing the restored parts of their bodies as if they weren’t quite ready to accept that they’d actually been healed.
The priest remained on his knees, head bowed in silent prayer. I was about to hop back out of the hole in the roof, but then I heard him say, “Thank you.”
I cocked my head back in his direction, curious if someone else had entered, but when I saw no one was there I figured he was just speaking to God.
“Thank you.”
Again he spoke, and again I stopped.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was talking to me so I waited.
“I don’t know where you are, or how you’ve done what you did, but thank you.” He sniffled. “I’ve been trying my best to help these people, but faith in the creator is weak here and I find it difficult to cast any spells as a result. They needed this. I needed this. So I thank you, for giving us even a moment of your time.”
Well shoot. If that isn’t the most earnest bit of gratitude I’ve ever heard, well, I guess I just don’t remember it. But what’s this about trouble casting spells? That’s new.
Uriel buzzed not a second later.
Magic, like any effort, is affected by how confident one is. As such, if belief in ones self fades so too will their ability and focus. This is especially pertinent to those who believe that their powers are derived from another.
But what about those who actually get their power from an external source? Or is that not a thing?
Uriel buzzed again.
Magic can be given to others if a pact is formed or a fragment of spirit is gifted. Most terrestrial deities and demons uses these methods to empower their most faithful, and those abilities are directly affected by the prominence of the patron. However, for most priests their powers are their own.
I blinked. So does that mean I imparted part of myself onto Calden?
This time the system spoke.
Uggh. More gibberish. But at least I know it’s not the same, and I’m not missing a part of myself.
Speaking of which. I checked back with Calden, but since they were still knee deep in redundant discussion, I returned my attention to the kneeling priest. I guess I have time, so what should I do? Have a chat with him? Do some charity work? Look for any of those terrestrial deities I’ve learned about?
#
Soaria anSelm watched the moonlit outer walls of Ariadholm from the tree once occupied by the spineless scout she’d just finished making disappear. Her dark hair was tied back in a long braid, and her caramel skin was hidden beneath equally dark leather armor. A curved kukri sat sheathed at each hip, and she clasped a solid shortbow in one hand.
Of all possible places for a misstep, it had to be here. Training them turned out to be a waste of time after all.
Her black eyes flicked to the tower at the city center, and she pulled a red cloth over her mouth and nose. “At least I can make use of them one more time. And I suppose that dog Palaesheck would have me deal with the Baronette sooner or later. So this will be a good test”
But an archmage won’t be easy, especially not in his own tower with the defenses active.
She touched the small crystal shard attached to a chain around her neck. “Without this I wouldn’t even dare to try. But I have no choice but to succeed.”
With that, she lept, swung, and gracefully darted through the trees, closing in on the town as swift and silent as a shadow–grim determination powering her every move and lethal cunning guiding the way.