Page 24 of The Garnet Daughter (The Viridian Priestess #3)

Chapter

Eighteen

I want to scream but I can’t remember how. I can only stare at the man holding the gun in my face. Another stranger slides in next to him, pointing it somewhere past my head.

“Drop it.” August’s voice is deadly.

The man smiles. “Don’t see many Viathan commanders out here.”

I step backward slowly.

Both men are dressed in rough clothing, as if the sandstorm has aged it and taken some of the color from the high points and seams. Something darker than dirt covers their faces, maybe soot, creasing in the sweaty lines around their eyes and foreheads.

“I said drop it.” August’s voice is closer.

I can hear Commander Wesley just behind me. I imagine his weapon is drawn, too, making me keenly aware I am standing between all four.

“Rude for guests to come in making demands,” the second skinnier man adds.

I finally get close enough to feel August’s hand on my back, letting me know he’s there. As much as I want to fold out of the way, I’m afraid any sudden movement will set either side off.

“I’ll ask all of you to put those away if you don’t mind.” An old man walks behind the countertop, wiping the dirt from his sweaty brow and not giving the showdown a second look.

No one moves. If anything, the two strangers snarl and lean a little more intently toward us.

“You will have to forgive my sons. Our town has seen some recent troubles,”

the old man says. “Again, I ask those be holstered.”

Commander Wesley moves behind me, withdrawing his outstretched arm.

“What are you doing?” August grits in a whisper.

“We need information they have. Holster it,” Commander Wesley explains.

“No way I’m surrendering to the dirt twins.”

“That’s an order,” Commander Wesley whispers. “The 99th Commander may tolerate your antics, but I won’t. Holster. It.”

“Soon as you do, I invite you to sit,” the old man calls out.

August’s exhale is drawn out as he stands down.

The sons look a little more relaxed, the rougher of the two sitting his gun on the tabletop as he takes a seat. The second man simply places his small gun in the back of his belt, standing guard against the wall.

“We are passing through, no trouble intended,” Commander Wesley says and pulls out a chair, gesturing for me to sit.

I choose the one next to it and plop down, irritated with Commander Wesley for the way he spoke to August.

“Who is . . . we?” the old man asks.

“I am Commander Wesley, and this is my pilot, Commander August.”

“And you?” The man sitting looks straight at me in a way that makes my skin crawl.

August sits in the chair closest to me, the armor on his shoulder pressed firmly against mine, and quickly deflects attention away. “We saw some fire damage on our way in. Is this the trouble you speak of?”

“First Son soldiers came through. We are one of the last stops for fuel for a half a day, so it’s common for them to stop here, but things got ugly.” The old man comes out from the counter, placing glasses in front of each of us and pouring a small amount of brown liquid.

“They made demands we would not meet,” the seated son interrupts.

“You understand why we would like it if your stay was brief,” the old man continues.

“Then I will speak plainly,” Commander Wesley starts. “Mayor Everson from the town over mentioned a woman here, a healer. We require an audience.”

The old man considers, puckering his lips together. “What is your business with her?”

“I am under three worlds law in declining such inquiries, although as a show of good faith, I can tell you we simply have questions about a location deeper in the birthlands, none that will affect your village, I can assure you,” Commander Wesley vows.

“I’ll show them the way,” the seated son offers.

“You both will stay put.” The old man points a violently jabbing finger toward them, like he is sick of their input. “I will take you myself. As far as being granted inside, that is not up to me.”

“Thank you,” Commander Wesley says.

We follow the man through the village, weaving through barely visible alleyways that branch farther into the high-walled buildings. The only people we spot quickly enter their homes and shut the doors. It’s eerily silent, and the deeper we travel, the larger my sense of dread becomes.

“This is as far as I go.” The old man stops at a large building with a ratty cloth in the doorway. “I expect your ship departed from my dock before sundown.”

Commander Wesley nods.

The structure is an orange sandy hue, the windows warped and covered in a film of dust and old shutters. Not a sound comes from the inside or any of the homes around us.

“Whatever happened here, he does not want to tell us.” Commander Wesley’s helmet follows a line of smoke floating up into the sky from a building in the next alleyway.

“Why did he say this is as far as he goes?” I whisper to August.

“Maybe that’s why,” August mutters.

A person is in the entrance, pulling at the material and appearing to gaze past us with eyes that are pale and lids that are so shaded, they have a violet hue. His hair is shorn and his tunic is white and crisp, standing out in the sand and grit-filled environment.

“Hello. We are looking for a woman named Maestra,” Commander Wesley states to the young man, unfazed by his appearance.

The young man nods and gestures for us to follow him into the building.

A lingering smell of medicinal herbs floats on the air.

Symbols adorn the old, crumbling walls close to the ceiling, ancient depictions of old gods and statues half crumbled of figures I do not recognize.

The interior is sectioned off by tall curtains hanging from the walls on either side.

More people with similar eyes as our guide rest on low metal beds, all in various stages of whatever ailment they are clearly suffering from.

They are dressed in the same white clothing, but some have gauze wrapped around their eyes.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I whisper to August.

“It’s a sanitarium. They are all being treated here or . . . kept.” He flicks his chin to a person strapped to their bed, motionless and staring up at the ceiling with entirely white eyes.

Commander Wesley glances over his shoulder at the two of us behind him, making sure we noted it too.

The young man stops in front of a curtained off room and places a hand out for us to wait. He disappears inside, and after a moment pulls the curtain back, gesturing for us to enter.

“Welcome,” a woman with wild, curly hair pinned to the top of her head says as she glances up from her patient’s bedside. She hunches over her, removing a blindfold delicately.

“You are the healer called Maestra?” Commander Wesley asks.

“I am.” She pulls the last of the gauze from the woman’s eyes. “It is rare we have visitors so close to the conjunction.”

I step forward. Watching her work reminds me of Ruth, and the unsettled feeling that built as we walked through her residence floats away.

“Maestra, I am called Calliape. You may have some information for us that would be very helpful.”

She smiles at me, looking at my hands and clothing. “A child of Frith. Are you a divine one?”

“I would rather not say.”

“A true Frithian wouldn’t.” She smiles again and turns her back to me, fetching something from the many drawers lining the far wall.

“We are searching for a temple,” I add.

She turns back, handing me a clay bowl. “There are two temples in the birthlands, and because I assume your Viathan companions are not going to First Son, it means you seek the other. Omnesis.” She drops a few ingredients in the bowl, stirring as I hold it.

“We’ve been told you worship this god and may know the temple’s location.”

“Dangerous place,” Maestra mutters and sucks some of the oil from the vessel into a dropper. “Hold that closer. She will struggle, so we need to be fast.”

I notice the ties on the patient’s wrists and legs, holding her tightly to the bed.

“Her eyes have gone, but her mind hasn’t, and we are trying to keep it that way,” she answers, my discomfort obvious, as she pries the woman’s eyelids open and drips a few drops of medicine on her milky pupils.

“What is wrong with her?” I ask, curiosity taking over.

“She has eclipse delirium. They all do, but she’s more hopeful than others.” She sucks up more oil into the dropper. “They stare into the eclipse and go mad.”

“Why would they do that?” August asks with a huff.

Maestra peers over to him, not amused by his tone. “Some hope to see First Mother, others First Son. Their families bring them here when they stop eating, drinking, and do nothing but wait for the sunrise and set.”

“We looked into the lights,” I say as soon as I realize.

Maestra pauses, getting close to my face to examine me, staring at each pupil. “You are fine. If you were sick, you would forget all else, including whatever reasoning to seek out Omnesis’s temple.”

“Will you help us?”

She takes the bowl from my hands. “You are kind, Frithian, but you must be very lost if you seek that place.”

“Please.”

She places gauze back onto the eyes of her patient, considering for a moment.

“There is a rock formation. It juts up into the sky like the beak of a bird, the only one of its kind. Beyond that, opposite the direction of the eclipse, you will find an oasis with a dense tree line. The temple is near there. That is all I know.”

“Thank you.”

She looks up at both Commander Wesley and August. “Do not thank me. It is likely the desert will kill all of you before you reach it. There are things there that cannot be explained. Sand that eats as you and I do.”

Commander Wesley steps forward as she resumes her work. “What can you tell us of the First Son attack on this village before we came?”

It’s unclear why he is pressing her about it. I would assume it is a necessary part of his job, but August does not seem pleased he is asking either.

She furrows her brow. “I did not witness it. However, I heard they had a prisoner with them, a young woman, she was of Viathan.”

He steps forward, but Maestra is unfazed.

“She wore noble clothing. There was an altercation and somehow she started several fires,” she continues.

I scoot closer to August, hoping that we can depart now that we have what we came for, but the information has ignited more interest from Commander Wesley.

“She started fires?” he asks.

Maestra nods.

“Thank you for your time,” I interrupt and give Commander Wesley a serious look. “We will depart, blessed conjunction to you and your patients.”

“You as well.” She smiles, not looking up from the blind woman.

I stare up at Commander Wesley until he begins walking back down the aisle of beds and fabric-walled rooms.

As we breach the exterior, I decide to remind him that he may be in charge of keeping us safe, but this is not a Viathan mission.

“We came for specific information and we got it, Commander Wesley. I have limited time. The 99th Commander did not task you with collecting additional information from the locals.”

His shoulders square with a large exhale. “Apologies.”

He is silent the entire way back through the town, traveling faster than before. August, in comparison, walks with a peppy stride, loving that I scolded someone he is not fond of.

We ascend the ramp of the ship. Being in a protected space and out of the harsh elements should be a relief, but instead the air is thick with hostility.

Commander Wesley slams open a locker and goes through some of the weapons already inside, the tension running through him turning into a full-on sulk.

August unloads the guns he has attached to his armor, placing them back in their designated spots inside the bright armory lockers, then removes his helmet with a breathy groan.

I pat some of the dirt from my clothes, determined to keep moving us forward. “I’m going to head up. I want to write down what Maestra said exactly before I forget.”

August’s serious eyes flick to Commander Wesley for a moment, but then he sends me an encouraging smile. “Meet you up there.”

I collect a protein square from the mess hall and the spell book from my room before heading to the cockpit, anxious to strap in and fly away from this unsettling place. I write down what Maestra said about the bird beak and where the oasis is past that.

By the time I’m finished, my two travel companions have still not joined me. I wonder if they are going over the plans to find the rock formation with whatever Viathan technology they might have. Irritated, I descend back down into the cargo hull to see what is taking them so long.

August stands in the middle of it, his back to me.

“Everything ok?” I ask, and when he turns to me, his expression is a mix of anger and worry.

Confused, I glance around the hull for Commander Wesley, annoyed that his mood has now infected August too. We have information, a plan now, and we shouldn’t be wasting time. But August and I are the only people present.

“Where is Commander Wesley?” I give the room another quick inspection.

Did I pass him on my way here?

August steps toward me, his hand extended as if he’s preparing to comfort me. “Commander Wesley is gone.”