15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Viola
I was able to take a proper bath for the first time in weeks, and I did not want to climb out of that tub. But my stomach rumbled, and my friends were waiting for me, so I heaved myself out.
I'm sharing a room at the inn in Feria with Mace, and when I leave the bathing chamber, I find him sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I brought your stuff," he says, handing me my bag. I find a clean set of clothing and a chest wrap and happily dress in them. The blood-stained jumpsuit was not practical for what we will have to do.
Mace updated me on what to expect on Riosia Island, where the old fae hid the artifact and journal.
"Tell me more about Riosia Island," I say, wrapping my chest and pulling on my underwear.
He doesn't avert his eyes. "It's small, a place where the Spring Seasonale sends the beasts that are deemed too dangerous for the mainland. They'll sometimes pull from it for the Race."
"So, an isle of monsters, then?"
"It's unknown exactly how many beasts or what type are there. It' s not going to be an easy journey." He drinks in my body, seemingly unbothered by the loss of muscle tone and weight I've undergone.
"How are we getting there?" I ask as I sit down next to him on the bed.
"Jaz is here." Mace's voice is weary. He seems to have dropped some as well, and there are deep circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.
"What are they doing here?"
"Plume sent messages throughout the Lowlands calling for support for you. Looks like Jaz heard one and immediately set off for here, hoping to find us." He smiles. "They're growing on me."
"They do that," I say with a laugh. "I hope we can convince them to take us to Riosia."
"We'll ask tomorrow. Let's go get some food."
We knock on our companion's doors and then head down the stairs, sitting at stools at the bartop. A large man with a handsome smile comes over to serve us. "Ya came back!" he says, smiling at Tulip. He gives Zeph a curious look, and then he notices me, his eyes lingering on the lines of decay that crawl up my hands. "And you brought friends." He steps before me, turning his head to the side as he peruses me. "I got a guess as to who you are."
He pours all of us glasses of a liqueur, and I throw it back, enjoying its spicy and nutty taste. "Yea? Do you want to make the guess or want me to show you? "
His face lights up, and I can't help but return the smile. "I'm Quade. Show me, please."
I wink at him, and the bartop grows frosty, the entire length of it encased in ice. Other patrons at the end of it yelp, startled. Quade's eyes nearly bug out of his head. I shrug and send a small flame running down the length, melting all the ice. I turn to Plume. "Can you do some Air, Plume? I haven't got that one yet." She laughs and blows a mist of Air magic over the bar, drying it.
Quade and the handful of patrons who saw my display are slaw-jawed, staring at me. I hold out my hand. "Viola Mistflow. You may have heard me called the Shadowweaver."
He rubs his head in disbelief, then grabs my hand. "They said you had a lot of magic. I didn't know fae could do more than one season."
"Well, first, I'm not fae. And currently, I'm at three."
"I'm sorry, what?" he says, crossing his arms. "That's why you lot want the Spring artifact? She'll have all four seasons?"
"Hard to explain it when she's not here," Mace says from my left, shrugging. "Now, do you understand why she deserves support?"
"If I'm honest, I'm a little overwhelmed here. I'm not sure what to think." He drains his glass and pours another. "You a God? A God is sitting at my fucking bar like it's nothing? Just casually hanging out and drinking my zzar?"
"I'd like some more of it, whatever it is. Oh, and some food? What is the kitchen serving tonight? "
"Huck!" Quade shouts, kicking open a door behind him. "Get out here!"
A scrawny man covered in tattoos comes rushing out of the kitchen, panting. "What's wrong, boss?"
"Nothing wrong. Do you know who that is?" He points at me. Huck looks at my white hair and my hands, then wrinkles his nose.
"Nope, am I s'posed to?"
"That's Viola Mistflow, Huck."
"Winner of the Race?" he asks, stepping closer to me. "Why you look so odd?"
"Huck!" Quade gasps, smacking him on the back of the head.
"What? She don't look like a human from Dalery, is all I'm saying."
"You're right," I say with a smile. Tulip is cackling on my right, eyes leaking tears. "I was a human from Dalery."
"Whatchoo mean was?" Huck asks, wrinkling his nose. "Boss, you bring me out here for some riddle?"
"Oh! Oh! Let me give him a riddle!" Tulip says, bouncing. "Come on, Lola, can I?" I shrug, and gesture her to continue. "Okay, let's see here, hmmm. Got it!" She looks at Huck, who leans a little too close to her across the bar. Morrow moves tighter to Tulip's side. "What do you get when you give a human trauma, magic, and a very loosely defined quest?"
He scratches his head and shrugs. "What? What the shit kind of riddle is that?"
"Tulip, that riddle is awful," I tell her, bumping her shoulder. "You tried, though. Go ahead and tell him the answer."
"You get a God, Huck."
He narrows his eyes at Tulip, unwilling to believe her. I shrug and pull shadows from the corners of the room, wrapping them around his legs. He yelps, looking down at his wrapped form. "Nice to meet you. I'm the Shadowweaver."
Quade is howling at his cook's distress as he fights against the shadows. I release them quickly and he stumbles back, hand over his heart. "What the fuck is going on here, Boss?"
"Well, what's going on is we've got a God who's hungry. Scrounge her up something to eat, yeah?" Huck scurries back to the kitchen, and Quade yells, "And the rest of her friends, too!"
"That wasn't very nice," Plume says, but she's still giggling softly. "Poor man is terrified now."
"I didn't mean to be scary!" I say, holding my hands up. "I can't help it if I look gross now."
"You don't look gross, numen," Mace says, rolling his eyes. "You look decayed. There's a difference."
"Hey!" I smack him on the arm, and we both laugh loudly. Zeph watches our interactions curiously from the opposite side of Plume. His face holds a bit of sadness but also curiosity. I tilt my head to the side, silently questioning him.
"Despite all of it, it appears you all had a good time traveling," he says. "It seems you've all grown close." He looks at Mace and smiles. "I've never seen you so happy, brother. I am glad for it."
Mace raises his glass to Zeph and nods. "Thank you, brother." A lot of feelings pass unsaid between the two stubborn men, but they don't bring them to voice. He drains the zzar and then leans on the bar, his chin in his hand. "What is your plan as high priest?"
Zeph smiles, his whole face lighting up. "I am here to serve the Shadowweaver however she needs me. I will ensure the humans understand how to give her devotion through worship and sacrifice and act as a conduit for it so she may draw more power from me and the atmosphere." He makes eye contact with all of us, his smile wide. I notice he hasn't touched his glass of zzar. "I have not felt this good in a long time. I finally feel like I am doing what I was meant to do. Everything I've done in my life has led me here, to Viola, to support and help her."
"Fuck, you sound just like the priests in the journals," Morrow says with a chuckle, taking a sip of his glass. "It's uncanny. So just you've got a little voice inside your head that tells you Viola is everything?"
"It's hard to describe," Zeph says, resting his bearded chin on his first. "It's just… something inside me must protect her at all costs."
Huck comes out with bowls of a stew in a rich broth. "It ain't much, lady God," he sets one in front of me, "but it'll stick to your ribs."
"Lady God," Morrow chuckles, reaching behind Tulip to pat me on the back.
"Just Viola is fine," I say to Huck, pulling the bowl close to me and accepting the hunk of bread he passes my way.
He divvies everyone's bowls out and stares at me as I take my first bite. "I don 't think I can call a God by their first name," he says, scratching the back of his head. "Feels weird."
"Shadowweaver, then," I say around of mouth of bread. "I guess that's my official title."
The tavern is filling up with people, so I take the time to really enjoy what a beautiful building it is. High ceilings with exposed beams open up to the second floor, which is only about half of the building. From what I've seen, it's only sleeping rooms up there. Sconces line the walls, and the orange glow of the fire and the light crackling of it create a nice ambiance. The people here look healthy and happy, their clothing beautiful and varied.
When things calm down, I could see myself spending time here. There are even families with small children here.
"Should we do a speech?" Mace asks, garnering my attention. "Let them know the Race is over, what our goal is, that sort of thing?"
"Quade, what do you think?" I ask the proprietor, who seems to stick close to us despite the other people at the bar. A small woman with dark hair and eyes flits about taking orders and bringing drinks in his stead.
He rubs his chin and shrugs. "I mean, it's not a bad idea. You said she needs support, right?" Mace nods. "Then yeah, worth a shot." He cups his hands around his mouth. "Oy! You lot! Listen up. Got some people that need to talk to you, and you're gonna listen because they're good people, and they're telling the truth, alright?"
The tavern grows quieter, all of them turning towards Quade. "I didn't mean right this second," I mutter under my breath. But without me having to say anything, Zeph rises to his feet and turns to address the crowd.
We watch on as Zeph expertly weaves the tale of how we ended up where we are today. The openness and honesty in his voice have all of the patrons captivated. It's obvious in moments when finding out the truth about the Gods hurts people, and he delivers the news gently and with grace. The truth of the Race, the plans of Himureal, and the reality of our land all come falling out of Zeph's lips in a raw display of piousness.
Watching him, it's obvious that this was what Zeph was meant to do. He is just as enigmatic of a speaker as Mace, and his calm demeanor quiets the crowd. As he speaks, it's like I'm getting a boost of energy, my body waking up.
"We have been working to bring the other Gods back and work with them to push the Frostweaver out for good. He is no longer serving the best interests of Krillium but instead himself. To replace him, the Shadowweaver has risen. She possesses the magic of Winter, Summer, and Autumn and soon will possess the magic of Spring. She is a God worth supporting and believing in, and she will guide us on the path to peace and prosperity."
He crosses in front of Plume and Mace and takes my hand, pulling me from my stool. The touch jolts my skin, and I feel my powers surging. All eyes are on the two of us, and I wonder what they see. Zeph looks more put together than the rest of us, with his well-groomed beard, blue shirt, and olive trousers. And then there is me, my white hair pulled back in a braid, my hands covered in lines of decay reminiscent of lightning bolts, and my travel-worn clothes close to falling apart.
And yet still their eyes are on the two of us, our hands clasped. Zeph leans down and whispers, "Do you feel that?" in my ear. "There is already belief for you in this room. Say something. Show them who you are."
I look at all of the people and try to count them quickly. A glance over my shoulder shows me that Huck and another man have come out of the kitchen, Quade and the woman assisting him have frozen, and some twenty people in the tavern are still riveted on Zeph and me.
"This type of thing is hard for me," I tell them honestly. "And I must admit, I am a little rusty. I've had a trying few weeks." I chuckle wryly, then compose myself again. "I was a human from Dalery, and I won the Race this year. That was the last Race anyone will run." Wide eyes greet me at that statement, and I push on. "What Zeph says is true. I hope I can be a God you can believe in. I truly am just trying to do right by the land that raised me. All I can ask is for you to believe in me."
I picture snow falling from the ceiling, and it does, drifting lazily through the air toward the tables amid gasps from the patrons. I conjure a small ball of fire into my left hand, and in my right, I pluck a flower from the arrangement on a table in front of me and let it decay in my grasp.
Zeph puts his hand on my back, and it feels like power is flooding my veins. The fire jumps in size, the snow comes down quicker, and the flower turns to dust in my palm. "They believe in you," he whispers in my ear. "Just like I do."