Vedek
Onakie repressed whatever sorrow she was feeling to take control of the situation. “We need to go down there. The people below believe Azeroth threw their king from the balcony. It won’t take long for speculation like that to fester and cement.”
She went to Odile and Vedek, dropping to her knee and offering her hand to the Princess. “I know this is hard, but I need you to vouch for what you saw. Your word carries more weight than any of ours.”
Odile sniffled, pulling herself out of Vedek’s shoulder. She was quiet for a moment, trying to process all of her grief at once. When she spoke, it was with control. “I will.”
Vedek cocked his head to the stairwell. He can hear trouble approaching. Ten Keep guards, fully suited in armor and equipped for battle, funneled from the stairs to the sitting room. They formed a phalanx cage to contain the five in the room, drawing their swords to discourage escape. At the end of the procession was Kelmin.
“Keeper, why have you not seized the men responsible for killing the King?” Kelmin asked coolly.
Onakie’s eyes narrowed. She put herself between Vedek’s group and the guards. “They are not responsible. You have no right to claim what happened when you were not present, Kelmin.”
“I’ve had my suspicions of this group from the beginning. What better way to get close to a king then to earn his favor by returning his daughter? They might have even been involved in the initial kidnapping, I’m not yet sure. Everything will come to light once they are in custody.”
“It was the tecuani!” Frost burst out. “The peddlers who arrived this morning, Cuixmala and Chamela!”
The assembled guards looked to each other. Kelmin sniffed. “King Fellior once told me that shifting blame is a coward’s tactic.”
“You will not speak my father’s name again.” Odile demanded. She broke from Vedek’s side to face Kelmin alone. The guards shifted uncomfortably as the Princess drew so close to their swords. “In this moment I am the acting queen of this city, and I order the pack of you to stand down. These men are innocent.”
Some of the guards lowered their blades, but none sheathed them. Those that were still stalwart Vedek recalled as displaying banners to the Order at dinner.
Kelmin glared at little Odile. “A good queen should not act on hysterics. You have just seen your father killed, small one. How can you be certain of what you’ve seen? You trust these men because they rescued you, but can you be certain they did not use your naivete to their advantage? If they are innocent, then they have nothing to fear from a trial.”
Kelmin assessed that the guards had not gone to the side of Odile. He pointed to Azeroth, Frost, and Vedek. “Take them.”
Three of the guards advanced towards Azeroth. Onakie scooped up her shield and blocked their path. “If you are intent on this, then you will have to face the Keeper of the Ruaidrí.”
Kelmin was not phased by this development. In fact, Vedek would swear he saw the ghost of a smile cross his scaled lips. “Beast protects beast. What Keeper puts themselves against their King’s guards?”
The guards kept moving. Onakie bashed one back with her formidable shield, knocking the man flat on his back. The sound of impact is enough to make the others wary of approaching the minotauress.
“I demand you stand down!” Odile shouted again.
“I’m sorry my lady,” one of the guards offered, “but the Ambassador is right. Best we chain the orc before he can escape.”
“The Princess shouldn’t have to see this.” Kelmin decided. He stepped forward to take Odile by the arm. Azeroth became a green blur. He drove his fist hard into Kelmin’s chin, sending him briefly skyward.
Azeroth took Odile’s hand, which she reciprocated. “Not again, donzo.”
For the remaining guards, this was all the confirmation they needed that Azeroth was dangerous. Azeroth picked up Odile in time to pull her away from their advance. Vedek scanned the ground. He found Onakie’s lost sword and passed it to her. Fully armed, she was much more threatening to the guards.
“Through that hallway, I’ll be behind you.” She shouted to Vedek’s group.
They did not need second instruction. Azeroth carrying Odile, they ran into the hallway at the other end of the room.
“I know where she’s sending us.” Odile announced, trying to ignore the sounds of Onakie fending off the guards. “Head for my room. Two lefts, then the silver studded door.”
Vedek and the others obeyed. They hadn’t expected a fight to break out during the banquet so neither Frost nor Vedek had their weapons. Frost vocalized his frustration that he could not go back and help Onakie. The halls of Sráid Keep seemed so much longer than Vedek remembered. Even running it felt like it had been a minute before they reached their first turn. Behind them he heard cries in True Elven, but he could not focus on the words. Odile’s room was almost as large as her father’s, with just as many bookshelves. Any stretch of fabric, from the drapes to bedsheets, was done in soft lilac colors.
“Now what?” Azeroth asked, setting the Princess down.
“We wait for Onakie.” Odile answered plainly.
The three men exchanged glances. A silent debate on who should bring up the fact they were in a dead end and there was no guarantee Onakie would reach them first, if at all. Vedek pressed his ear to the door. There were thundering footsteps bounding down the hall. Relief washed over him. The sound was not of combat boots, but hooves. He threw open the door to greet Onakie.
The Keeper was fine except for a grave look on her face. Her armor was scuffed, but the ornamental plating had held. She slammed the door behind her. Azeroth had the quick thought to push Odile’s dresser to block the door. Frost helped him in this endeavor. Once Onakie had caught her breath, she placed her hands on the side of Odile’s bed. Without aid she was able to push the bed aside, revealing a hatch.
“This escape route has been part of the castle for centuries. It leads close to the stables. If news hasn’t spread far we should be able to escape the city without interference.”
Odile piped up. “We? Are...are you planning on us going with them?”
Onakie was silent. She was focused on forcing open the rusted hatch. Vedek warned that he could hear more footsteps in the hall growing closer.
“Onakie, my father is dead. I can’t abandon my city. Not to a man like Kelmin.”
“Odile…” Onakie spoke quietly. The footsteps outside were audible to the non-elden in the room. Odile kept talking, distressed tears once more welling in her eyes.
Onakie seized Odile by the shoulders.
“Look at me!” Onakie’s flat nostrils flared. Her eyes flashed anger before returning to their usual softness. Her large hands nearly encapsulated Odile’s sides. “I don’t know if I can protect you if we stay.”
The sobering moment was allowed to sink into Odile before it was broken by the door to her room being rattled. Azeroth found more debris to bar the door with. The pain of being torn between Onakie and her city was clear. She would not speak her answer, but she took Onakie’s hand. Onakie comforted the girl with a quick hug.
“Could you grab that jewelry box?” Odile pointed to a grey box on the nightstand near Vedek. “Please?”
Vedek did as asked. The box was small, possibly only containing a few items. It was sealed with an ornate lock, but he could not see any keyhole. Odile took the box and held it close. The top of her bedroom door splintered from the repeated battering. The five of them were vanished down the hatch before any guard had extended a foot into the room.
The passage was dark and had the musty smell of a tomb. Vedek could not see his own hand in front of his face. Odile touched the walls and whispered a message in Sylvan. From the walls and ceiling fae runes of blue light ignited with the dim intensity of half-melted candles. Frost shifted to carry Odile. Onakie led their path while Vedek and Azeroth made weary looks to the ladder behind them. As they ran down the tunnel Azeroth discarded the upper half of the armor he had been given. At one point Vedek jumped because of a tingling on his neck until he realized it was a cobweb that was easily brushed aside.
The hall came to an interweaving set of stairs that summited to another trapdoor with an iron handle. With a groan, Onakie slid the heavy door open. Night wind kissed their faces. It was laced with the scent of wildflowers. When Vedek exited the tunnel he recognized the location. It was the hill behind the castle that displayed the four statues of the Seasonal Archfaer. The secret hatch was concealed beneath the statue of Lughron. Vedek felt a strange comfort knowing that the King of Fae still had some use to the people of Sráid.
The walls of Sráid Keep were speckled with torches. In the highest tower, a signal fire had been lit that would be visible for miles. Onakie would not let them idle here. She sealed the tunnels’ entrance then broke into a sprint down the hill, completely ignoring the stone path that wound around it. The castle stables were linked to the courtyard. Onakie took them to a back entrance. Many of the horses were awake due to the earlier festivities and the current panic. While Azeroth and Frost assisted Onakie with saddling three horses Vedek crept to the window to peer into the plaza.
The courtyard was abandoned of Sráid citizenry. Guards stayed here while servants cut across the yard to other parts of the Keep. The guards were assembled in front of one of the banquet tables that had been cleared of anything beyond the green linen. Vedek could not understand the importance of this table until he saw the body of King Fellior had been set upon it. They had done Fellior the decency of covering his body, but Vedek could see one of his arms hanging off the table, limp and cold.
Someone pulled at the hem of Vedek’s shirt. It was Odile. “Is my father out there?”
Vedek grimaced. He tried to turn her away from the window. “It’s best you don’t see him like this.”
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“He’s my father.” She insisted, resisting him and looking as if he had just struck her.
"Do you that to be your final memory of him?” Vedek asked. They both spoke in whispers to not attract attention.
“Better that than the memory of his death.” Azeroth commented. He was stealing glances out the window as well.
“If it was my father, I would want a final moment to remember his face.” Frost speculated.
Vedek looked to Onakie to have the final word on the matter. Onakie looked pensively into the saddle she had just finished securing. “Let her. She’s strong enough.”
Vedek didn’t like being part of this, but he lifted Odile so that she could look into the courtyard. Her eyes shimmered the moment she realized what was her father. She didn’t linger on it long and soon asked Vedek to lower her. She quietly went to Onakie, who lifted her onto a caramel bay horse. Vedek stole another look outside.
“What if we retrieve the body?” He wondered aloud. “We could resurrect him, couldn’t we?”
~-~-~
The Divines dictate seven rules for resurrection:
> First: The power of resurrection will be limited to clerics, chosen and marked by their god.
>
> Second: Bodies that have perished from natural causes, age or illness, cannot have their soul returned.
>
> Third: The miracle must be performed on the preserved body of the deceased within three days of the soul exiting.
>
> Fourth: The cleric will be impartial to the proceedings. The onus is on the beggar to provide the offering for the miracle, something of great personal value to themselves.
>
> Fifth: The soul itself must be willing to return and must not have faced the Undying Court.
>
> Sixth: A portion of the soul will remain in the Sunless Border. The resurrected body will be weaker for this.
>
> Seventh: A soul may only be returned once per lifetime.
Vedek knows all these restrictions. It is the earliest lesson an heir is taught. If the sole monarch of Fae’Riam dies an unnatural death the decision falls to their heir if they will pursue a resurrection or ascend the throne. The decision is always one of great intrigue to the public. If the heir refuses resurrection, then what is their reasoning?
In war it is standard policy to guard the body of a slain commander for three days to prevent a chance of them being retrieved and returned. Tragedies had been written on the stories of people who could not volunteer a suitable offering to match the soul of their beloved.
Three centuries ago, the restriction that weighed heaviest on Vedek’s mind was the three day time limit. Longstep claimed that they were three days from returning to Slevelisk Glade, but that was with no further delays. The royal family is never without a qualified cleric of Seiriva, Goddess of Healing in the Grand Pantheon. The question whether he can make it in time never crosses Vedek mind. He skips to the question of what it will take to transport Longstep’s body. The Foragers didn’t have packs on them, which meant they had to have a camp nearby. After two hours of canvassing he locates the site and the supplies he needs to make a travois.
He died for me. Vedek thinks as he constructs the stretcher to hold Longstep’s body.
He died for me. Vedek thinks after he has carried the stretcher with Longstep’s body for a kilometer. His arms already aching and lungs burning from strain he is not used to enduring.
He died for me. Vedek thinks on the second night. He stares at Longstep’s body from across the campfire. He has to reach the castle before midday tomorrow. He only sleeps an hour before returning to the journey. He can’t remember a time he has felt so exhausted, so starved, so sore and desperate.
He died for me. He died for me. He died for me.
The thought hammers in his head with each step. The young Prince moves with burning purpose that eclipses the pain wracking his body. Twice he has had to repair the travois after a bad bump. Yesterday he had to use a branch to scare off a trio of corvids that had come to inspect the dead body. His mind is so absorbed he doesn’t react to two elden rangers appearing until one of them grabs him.
“He only has hours.” Vedek rasps through a closed throat. The rangers understand. One takes the arms of the travois from Vedek and breaks into a sprint for the castle. The other gives Vedek a vial of the same potion Longstep had used. The pain fades from his arms, but his hunger and exhaustion are only numbed.
When they reach the castle Vedek is halted by many servants, soldiers, and his own parents. Each group tells him he looks like he is near the grave himself and that he should rest before anything else. He knows they are all concerned for him, but he demands to know where Longstep is and if they have started the resurrection process. He is answered with uneasy looks. It is unorthodox for the cleric of Seiriva to perform the miracle for anyone other than the royal family, but she is the only qualified cleric for leagues around and is subservient to the nobility. Vedek is asked many times if he is sure about this. He responds in the affirmative. Any other choice is impossible.
After repeated insistence, Vedek is taken to a special chamber where Longstep’s body rests on a slab. The sole shaft of light comes from glowing runes circling the ceiling. The only living people in this chamber are himself and the cleric of Seiriva. Her name is Brigid Faichesteader and has served the royal family of Fae’Riam since before Vedek was born. She is an elden with daffodil yellow eyes. She is plumper than the standard elden and has claimed that visiting Slevelisk Glade is the only time she travels beyond the cities of Fae’Riam. She normally looks at Vedek with a gentle smile. She is not smiling now.
“Vedek Slevelisk. I speak for the Divine Seiriva. Do you wish to return the soul of this mortal to their body?” Her tone is deliberate and emotionless. Vedek is somewhat intimidated by it.
“I do.”
“Have you brought an offering, something equitable to the price of life?”
“I have.” Vedek exhales. Before he came to the chamber he had rushed to his quarters to retrieve the item he believed would satisfy the Divines. “I offer my crown. The symbol of my princehood, forged of electrum and emeralds four millennia ago.”
Brigid falters in her performance when she sees the crown that glitters in the runelight. “Are you certain of this? That is an item that cannot be replaced. It belonged to your father, and his father before him.”
Vedek catches his reflection in the coin-sized emeralds set in crown. He thinks about the conversation he would have to endure from his father when he learns of this. “If I value this more than a single life, then I will make for a poor king.”
Brigid likes his answer, but she is still concerned for the fallout. She gingerly takes the crown and sets it on Longstep’s chest. She waves her hands over the body, chanting in the celestial language of the divines. Her eyes are replaced with balls of light. A pale golden aura envelops Longstep. Little by little, the crown of the First Prince dissolves into vapor. Brigid's chanting ceases. She still speaks the complex language of the Divine, but she does it conversationally. She is talking to the soul of Longstep in the Sunless Borderlands, that shadowed space between the Prime Plane and the celestial realm of the Thirteen Hells and Seven Heavens.
Brigid shuts her eyes. The aura around Longstep pulses like a heartbeat. From the ceiling a trail of mist spirals downward to Longstep's body. They say the only time you can see the color of someone's soul is when they are being resurrected. Longstep's soul is made of two colors: A faded rust yellow and a browned forest green. Vedek holds his breath. He feels if he makes any sound the ritual will be interrupted and he will lose everything.
When the mist touches Longstep's chest all light in the room vanishes. A bird’s cry could be heard, but strange and distorted, as if heard in reverse. Once it has passed, the light returns. Vedek bites his lip. He stares at Longstep's face, desperate for even the slightest motion. Longstep's nostrils twitch. The soft rise and fall of his chest confirm he is breathing. It is not long before his eyes flicker open.
The moment Longstep has the energy to sit up Vedek rushes to lock him in a tight hug. “I didn’t know if you’d want to return.”
Longstep rests his hand on Vedek’s head, “I had to make sure you were safe.”
He speaks with the voice of a man dying of thirst. He attempts to stand, but his legs will not take the weight. Brigid informs him it will take the better half of the day for his body to return to full use, but it is impressive that he is capable of forming sentences.
Attendants enter the chamber to take Vedek away. He is confined to his room until he has rested. At various intervals he is visited by physicians who inspect his body, scribes who record his story, and his parents, who admonish and worry over him in equal measure. He does not remember falling asleep, but when he wakes it is a new day. Escorted by guards, he seeks Longstep. The old ranger is in the great hall speaking to the King and Queen. Vedek had almost believed the previous day a dream. After three days with his corpse, it is surreal to see Longstep back to his old self.
Only he’s not his old self. Resurrection drains the strength of the risen. Longstep clenches and unclenches his left hand. Vedek can see his fingers tremble involuntarily. He’s wearing a new cloak, one that sports a red leaf on the left breast. That is the symbol for retired rangers. Longstep meets Vedek’s eyes only for a moment before stepping aside so that the King and Queen may address their eldest son. Vedek does not like the concerned look they both have. His father explains that Longstep will no longer be Vedek’s teacher, not after so much risk was brought upon the prince. He can still associate with Longstep, who will remain in Slevelisk Glade as game warden, but there will be no more solo hunts between them.
Vedek is shocked. He attempts a protest, but Longstep silences him. He admits he doesn’t think he could protect Vedek the way he had four days ago. He has made a recommendation for Vedek’s new rangercraft teacher, an elden named Moira Felldown. He also thanks Vedek for bringing him back.
Longstep would die of natural causes seventy years later.
~-~-~
“If the king were resurrected, then he could set everything right.” Vedek repeated. Frost was immediately on board with the idea. He started sizing up the guards surrounding Fellior’s body.
Onakie shook her head. “There are no chosen clerics in Sráid. The closest, to my knowledge, reside in Spiral City. We won’t reach there for more than a week, even if we exhausted ourselves and our horses.”
She looked out the window. Her brown eyes shimmered, but no tears fell. “The King is dead.”
Vedek desperately wanted that not to be the case, but he kept his comments to himself. They had dawdled in the stables for too long. They took only three horses. Vedek could ride a horse with his saddle reversed. Azeroth mentioned something about only riding stolen horses. Frost was the complete novice, even apologizing to the black mustang he mounted. He shared his saddle with Odile, who would do most of the work of handling the reigns. Onakie didn’t need a horse, not that any could support a Minotaur’s weight.
They rode right through the main street of Sráid. The streets were deserted, but every house had candles lit. Vedek could hear the citizens speaking loudly in their homes. Their panic and worry buzzed in his ears like the insects of Solind Vissima. It was infectious. He gripped the reigns so tightly that his knuckles turned white. With each tower they passed, Vedek was certain they would be stopped, but none did. The news that Kelmin was looking for them hadn’t seeded beyond the castle.
At the city limits a watcher stopped their group, having recognized Onakie. Onakie calmly stated that she was relocating the Princess until the King’s assassins could be found. Azeroth hid his face. The watcher let them pass, wishing safety and condolences to the Princess.
“I’ll be back.” Odile assured him and herself.
Past that final checkpoint, they commanded their horses to increase pace. Onakie could keep with the horses, minotaurs have the endurance of bulls after all, but not if they were to break into a gallop.
“Do we actually know where we’re going?” Azeroth asked over the thundering of hooves.
“Spiral City!” Frost declared. “That is where we promised to meet Cole and Rerume.”
"That was before we were framed for regicide.” Vedek gestured to the shrinking skyline of Sráid behind them.
“No, Spiral City will be good.” Onakie barked between her controlled breaths. “I have some allies there myself. They’ll keep us safe, and it is far from Kelmin’s jurisdiction.”
That settled the matter. Vedek, Frost, and Azeroth would continue with their original plan of traveling to Spiral City, just with two additional party members and the entire city of Sráid after their blood. Vedek looked upward. The Cracked Moon was full and pulsed with sinister light.