Page 19

I couldn’t wait to be out of this forest. It wasn’t so much the walking all day that got to me as it was seeing the same scenery all day, every day—nothing but trees and more trees for miles.

If we were lucky, the occasional boulder or funny-shaped bush.

Foliage could be colorful year-round in the fae realm, which was magical, but not enough to shake up the monotony.

The terrain changed somewhat as we headed uphill, the earth under our feet becoming rocky and unsteady. I stepped carefully among the pebbles to avoid a twisted ankle.

“You sure you know where you’re going?” Vyrain grumbled beside me.

“Of course,” came Luthri’s confident response.

Eventually, the greenery began to thin, and our destination came into view.

How Luthri spotted it while hunting and remembered the location was a complete mystery, but it was as he’d said: a random shack standing by itself in the woods.

Shallow stone steps led the way to the structure.

The tall, thick trees in the immediate area had been cleared away in a neat circle, which hinted at it being inhabited.

As we drew closer and details came into view, my confusion grew.

The building was square and no larger than the small huts one might see in the poorer city districts.

While it had walls and a well-maintained roof, there was no clear door, though the front jutted out in an approximation of a porch.

Before the structure sat an imposing metal statue of a waifish fae woman about my height.

She was dressed in aesthetically arranged layers of fabric and rope, with a severe face and a long weapon with a curved blade resting against her shoulder.

A generous pile of small, shiny, dark stones was stacked precariously at her feet, covering the statue to her knees.

The area was quiet, but I didn’t dare let my guard down. Something was off about all this. If the structure didn’t have a door, what was its purpose? A hunter’s shelter? A traveler’s temple? There was nothing else around. Was it meant to be a home to someone… or something?

The others were likewise wary. Luthri raised his head to sniff the air as though that might reveal a clue. All I could detect was damp mulch, but then again, I had a human nose.

In the distance, a twig snapped, the warning carrying on a breeze. Multiple heads turned. The next moment, a thing emerged from the woods.

“Diabéisso?!” The Portuguese expression dropped from my lips.

There was no way to describe it other than a beast. It was a disconcerting amalgamation of various creatures, from the stature of a massive bear and the majestic antlers of a male avida to the spines of a porcupine and the large, triangular ears of an Epitgig .

The thing was gigantic, horrifying, grotesque, and… held a basket in one paw.

Its intelligent eyes narrowed as it regarded us.

Nothing moved but for Daethie’s wings, which began to buzz and jerk in an odd pattern—a threat, although it didn’t quite have the intended effect without the rest of the hive around.

I tensed, prepared to fight. To my left, flames surged to life in Vyrain’s hand. Hohem and Lu stood equally ready.

The beast grunted, a low, inhuman sound, but made no aggressive moves. Instead, a low hissing filled the air as its skin gave off a white, almost glowing smoke. Before our eyes, it began to shrink, deflating as though the fur was a costume or special effects.

Not a muscle twitched among our group.

When the smoke cleared, it revealed an old man in a simple draped robe.

At least, I assumed he was old, given the sparseness of his hair and the texture of his hands, neck, and face.

It was hard to tell with fae. Black script covered nearly every centimeter of visible skin, distracting me from the rest of his appearance until he spoke, shaking me from my stupor.

“Have you come to pray?” was the first thing out of his mouth. The stranger’s eyes sparkled as something long-dead deep in their depths was resurrected.

Lu was the first to compose himself. “Ah… no,” he managed.

The man’s shoulders dropped. “But of course not,” he muttered to himself, rebalancing the basket that hung from his arm. His gaze grew sharper as it flitted from person to person, taking us in. “You’re all so young. I can’t imagine you do much worship.”

A moment of silence passed before he realized that we were all still poised for defense.

“My apologies,” he said finally, softening his voice to break the tension. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I tend to the shrine here, and visitors do not always mean well. As a result, I’ve learned to lead with a show of strength and ask questions later.”

The fire Vyrain held winked out in an instant.

“ Opashi .” Hohem choked on the word, a form of address used for clergymen. He and Vyrain wore identical looks of horror, having almost attacked a man of the cloth. Distantly, I remembered that they’d been raised religious, even if they didn’t practice these days.

“We’re just passing through,” Lu offered.

I shoved down numerous questions to put up a friendly front.

“Yeah. That. Sorry if we gave you a fright.” I had a feeling we hadn’t worried him in the slightest, but it still seemed like the right thing to say.

What was that thing? And … how? “We’re on our way to Munarzed and saw your shrine from a distance.

We thought we might be able to use the shelter. ”

A theatrical gesture to the advancing storm got my point across.

“Ah.” The cleric stared into the sky as though measuring the distance. The air had begun to thicken with the promise of rain. “You… would be welcome to stay. However, the building was not designed for guests. I don’t have much space to offer you, and there’s only?—”

“—one bed?” Lu interjected. He sidled closer to me, as though preparing to throw me over one shoulder like a caveman and make a run for the single bed. Sending a prayer for patience into the ether, I stepped to one side to put space between us.

“Erm… no.” The opashi ’s silver brows drew together. “One outhouse. There are no beds beyond mine. You can use the vestibule, but it will be tight for all of you.”

“They’ll be fine,” Daethie piped up from her perch on Yrra’s shoulder. She leaned forward with an eager gleam in her eye. “More importantly, have you got any food?”

The old man hesitated. “Hermenia provides.”

“Who?”

The priest inclined his head toward the statue.

“The Lady of War. Of course, you wouldn’t know…

So many haven’t spoken the Goddess’s name since the Battle of Caersinde, which decided how this continent would be broken into provinces, as you know.

Ironic, isn’t it, that we are closest to the divine when our grievances with the world are many? ”

Uncertain glances were exchanged among our group .

“Sure, ironic,” I ventured as a fat drop of water hit the ground. “Perhaps we could move inside while we work out the details? We don’t have a lot of money, but we could exchange work for the food and shelter…”

“We’ve got this, too.” Lu held up the pig.

The opashi grimaced. “I don’t partake of flesh, thank you. If you must, please butcher it outside. Do save the pieces you won’t use; they can be utilized for the garden.”

Vyrain hurried forward, shooting a withering glance in Lu’s direction.

“Of course, Opashi . Our apologies. This one isn’t familiar with the finer aspects of life, such as the faith.

Please, allow me to assist you with your things.

” He stooped to tap two fingers against the top of the cleric’s bare, tattooed feet before reaching for the basket.

“Indeed?” Eyebrows raised, the cleric handed over his burden.

Hohem came to hover behind his brother—to provide moral support?

—as the old man stepped onto the scant porch.

He raised one thin hand and ran it along the wall.

Where it passed, a seam sprang from the wood grain.

The newly made door swept open with a light push to reveal the inside of the shrine.

With a wave of the cleric’s hand, golden balls of magic found strategically placed glass lamps throughout the interior, bathing the horseshoe-shaped hall in low, warm light.

“You’re a shahim ,” Vyrain announced in a voice filled with wonder.

There weren’t many words I didn’t know. “A what?”

“A mage proficient in the four common types of magic,” Lu explained under his breath.

“I never thought I’d meet one in my lifetime.” Vyrain’s eyes remained fixed on the man. “What in the name of the Goddess are you doing out here, in the middle of nowhere?”

“I told you,” the old man responded patiently, “I care for this shrine.”

“That doesn’t?—”

Hohem put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, silencing him.

“We’re honored to be in your presence,” he said sincerely.

I couldn’t hide my bewilderment at the current sequence of events, but everyone else went along with it, so I followed the rest of them inside.

Hohem and Yrra divested themselves of their packs in the tight hallway, and I did the same.

The holy man went around the bend to the right, where a small kitchen was set up.

He waved Vyrain over and took the basket from him.

“Perhaps one of you could fetch some root vegetables from the garden,” he suggested without looking back. “It’s just around the corner, behind the shrine. There is a pump for drinking water as well—feel free to make use of it.”

“We can do that,” Daethie volunteered. She tugged at Yrra’s ear as though steering an avida . Yrra heeded her direction and made for the door, beyond which the melodic cascade of rain had begun. In the distance, the sky grumbled a warning to be quick.

“I’ll get this… er… squared away.” Lu indicated the carcass, turning to go.

Vyrain remained enraptured by the cleric. “What can I do?”

I resisted the urge to tell him he could divorce his lips from the man’s ass, instead opting for, “How about you drop off your pack and get settled first? You’re taking up the entire hall.

” I slapped the bundle on his back to punctuate my words.

With an apologetic smile, he scooted past me and Hohem to leave his pack with the rest by the entrance.

“Grab the stuff we found while you’re at it,” I called after him.

I swiveled back to watch the old man pull handfuls of moss and fungi from his basket.

Despite his apparent age, his fingers flew across the countertop to set up a cutting board.

The words tattooed across his hands were impossible to make out from where I was, but there was something about “day of judgment” on the forearm closest to me and “believers will be blessed” along the skin that peeked out from his loose collar. A prayer? Lines of scripture?

“How long have you been in the area?” I inquired.

“Oh, it’s hard to keep track of the revolutions.” He rinsed the mushrooms by hand in a small pail that was already set up on the counter. “Decades. I took over from the previous caretaker about eighty revolutions ago. Back then, there was more to do. These days…”

The old man trailed off, his gaze becoming distant, as Yrra and Daethie returned with freshly picked vegetables. Vyrain followed on their heels with our meager provisions in hand.

“Is this enough?” Daethie asked as Yrra held up their offerings.

Looking over the items with a critical eye, the cleric put the mushrooms aside to tie his sleeves back. “It will do. Let’s get to work, shall we?”