Chapter 5
Chapter Five
The sun looks like a big orange ball getting squished against the edge of the world. It makes the sky all pink and purple, like when I mix my paints together. Uncle Agnar holds my hand as I watch the people of the town carry their dead friends and family.
They’re all floppy like my dolls when I drop them, but I’m not supposed to stare because staring is rude. My flame sprite dances over my shoulder, forming little shadows that wiggle across the ground.
“Hold still, Rosie.” Uncle Agnar sounds tired, the way my papa used to when he worked too hard, back when he was still alive. “And don’t look over there.”
Oops. Too late.
I already saw the carts with all the dead people. Arms and hands hang off the sides as if they’re trying to wave goodbye. I know what that means.
It means they’re never coming back.
Uncle Agnar said my papa got killed trying to save me from the drachen. Then Lark saved me after I was corr-up-ted.
Even though she’s the queen now, I usually just call her Lark. She claims she’s still the same person and doesn’t care about fancy titles anyway.
Uncle Agnar scolded me when I told him how I’d crawled into the big leather pack and hid after hearing one of the guards say he was sending supplies to the battle zone. Knox tried to appear stern, too, but I could tell he wanted to smile.
Lark just sighed, shook her head, and hugged me.
“We’ll send aid from the capital.” Lark sounds soft but strong at the same time. “Food, medicine, whatever’s needed.”
“Absolutely.” Knox rotates his huge silvery wings before rolling his neck from side to side. “They’ll need grain too.”
I tug free from Uncle Agnar’s grip, and my flame sprite drifts closer to my ear, tickling me. I giggle, but nobody notices because they’re all busy talking about important adult stuff.
Lark nods. “We’ll make sure they have enough.”
Bored, I pull out the rocks I found before Uncle Agnar grabbed my hand and refused to let me go. He was so angry with me after the loud fight that I hid them in my skirt pockets.
Now, I flip the rocks and rub my fingers over them.
They’re not regular rocks. They’re smooth and have all these neat shiny lines running through them, as if tiny lightning bolts are trapped inside. I stack them, one on top of the other, to build a little tower.
“The town well’s intact, at least.” Uncle Agnar points to the spot beside him, silently instructing me to stay put before he pivots to talk to the others.
“Look.” I hold up one of the stones so it catches the last bit of sunlight. “They’re pretty inside. They glow like swimming stars.”
Uncle Agnar spins around fast. When he sees what I’m playing with, his eyes get really big, and his face does that thing where his eyebrows scrunch together.
“Rose! You don’t know where those things have been.” He scoops them up and drops them into a pouch attached to his belt. “Hands out.”
I show him my palms and…oops. They’re dirty and sparkly with dust from the stones. Uncle Agnar strides over to the well, motioning for me to follow. He pulls up a full bucket, pours water over my hands, and then tells me to scrub them together.
I’m sad as I watch the glittery bits wash away. “Is that stuff bad?”
“Could be.”
Which is grown-up talk for, “yes, but I don’t want to scare you.”
After I’ve cleaned my hands, Uncle Agnar uses the wooden ladle hanging on the side of the well to scoop up more water. He drinks so quickly that water runs down his chin and neck, and he swallows with these funny gulping sounds that make me giggle.
He passes the ladle to Lark, who seems just as thirsty as my uncle. Her fingers are long and pretty, even with dirt under her nails and that red cut across her knuckle.
The skin beneath her eyes looks purple, like maybe she’s tired. Her legs wobble when she hands the ladle back too. I want to shout, “sit down,” but I know for a fact that adults don’t usually like it when kids tell them what to do.
Knox doesn’t move at all. He stands all stiff and straight. Just like the soldiers do when they line up in rows in the town square and stare ahead at nothing while other people yell orders.
My stomach wobbles a little. I don’t like the way he’s standing there. It’s as if someone turned him into a statue.
“Sterling.” Lark’s voice when she says his name reminds me of how soft Mama’s used to be sometimes when she talked to Papa. Especially when she thought they were alone. “You said something about your water magic not working right?”
I rub my chest. I try not to think about Papa too much because it hurts my heart and makes me miss him even more. Whenever that happens, Mama gets even sadder.
Knox’s shoulders jerk before he shrugs. “Everything’s okay. Just difficult to focus with animated stone warriors trying to bash in your skull.”
Uncle Agnar grunts as he pulls his tunic over his head and stands with a naked chest in front of the gods and everyone. He uses his tunic to wipe sweat off his face and neck.
Mama would be so mad at him if she were here.
“Can’t say we don’t know how to have a good time.” Uncle Agnar sounds tired too.
Knox gives a little nod, but he’s looking at something far away. A big cliff with a building on top. “The fun never ends in Tirene.”
My nose wrinkles. I’m pretty sure this is one of those times when adults say one thing but mean another, because I don’t see how getting attacked by giant statues would be very much fun.
Lark glances up at Knox. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m pissed off.”
I pipe up. “Uh oh. If Mama heard me say that, she’d wash my mouth out with soap.”
Knox smiles at me. “Sorry, pipsqueak.”
“S’okay.”
Lark tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before turning back to Knox. “I think we should talk to some gods.”
Excitement bubbles inside me. “Talk to gods? Real gods? You can do that?” I’ve only ever seen the little statues of gods in our house and the big ones at the temple. Mama says gods are always watching from way up above, but I never knew we could talk to them in person.
Lark lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know yet, but I think we should try.”
“Agreed.” Uncle Agnar narrows his eyes as he stares at the broken wall where the bad statues came from. “At the very least, we need to inform the Victory Goddesses of what’s happened.”
Sterling peers up at the cliff again. “Pretty sure they already know.”
“But we don’t have confirmation yet.” Lark sounds a little like my teacher when she’s trying to make a point. “And we need that.”
“I’ve got the goddesses.” My uncle puts his dirty tunic back on, which is kind of gross since he wiped his sweat all over it. “Stone is my thing, and their stone warriors created this mess.”
The pink and purple sky catches my eye. I love those colors.
I sigh as they change to dark blue and leave only a thin line of orange behind where the sun vanished.
The darker the sky becomes, the brighter my flame sprite glows.
People in town always stare at me now, but I like having my sprite.
I don’t have to be scared of the dark anymore.
“We should also try to talk to Valk and get the little one back to the palace.” Lark glances at me with kind eyes. “It’s getting late.”
“I’m not tired,” I fib. My eyes feel heavy, and my belly keeps grumbling, but I’m glad I didn’t miss the excitement.
Uncle Agnar reaches for my hand again. “Time to go, Rosie. Your mama will skin me alive if I don’t get you back soon.”
“Can I come with you to talk to the goddesses?” I clap my hands together and round my eyes. “Please? I’ll be super quiet. I promise.”
He studies my face for a moment before groaning. “Fine, but you’re not to say a word. Understand?”
I slap my hand over my mouth and nod, laughing when he snorts.
My giggles soon stop. “Uncle Agnar, are the gods mad at us? Is that why the stone warriors attacked?”
“Don’t worry about that, Rosie. The grown-ups will sort it out.”
“But you’ll beat the bad people, right? You, Lark, and Knox?”
Uncle Agnar smiles, a real smile that pushes his cheeks up and crinkles the corners of his eyes. “That’s the plan, little one. That’s always the plan.”
Feeling better, my belly unclenches a little.
If Uncle Agnar says they’ll beat the bad people, then they will.
He never breaks promises, not even small ones like bringing me candy from the palace kitchens or telling me an extra bedtime story.
My flame sprite dances in the air, creating circles of light. I’m no longer as scared.
Uncle Agnar and his friends will fix everything.
He promised.
Rose, blissfully unaware of the weight of our fears, dances among the night-blooming flowers, her flame flickering brightly as if to combat the encroaching darkness.
The temple’s ruins stretch before Sterling and me, dark and foreboding against the night sky.
Crumbled stone walls jut into the air like broken teeth.
After a quick discussion with Agnar and Sterling, we all agreed not to head down to Valk’s temple where people are still recovering.
Summoning the gods is best done in privacy and solitude, because Ziva only knows what could go wrong.
The trip back to the palace goes on the back burner for now. I kneel beside Sterling and clutch tufts of grass, a desperate prayer lodged in my throat as I gaze toward the remnants of what was once a sacred place of worship.
“Valk, Goddess of War. We need your guidance.”
Rose’s familiar illuminates the girl’s small form as if she’s a flicker of hope meandering through the remnants.
At the far edge of the destruction, Agnar rests his hand on one of the few remaining pillars. He bows his head, still pleading to the Victory Goddesses.
I wish I could bridge the distance between us and eradicate the shadows that threaten to swallow our faith whole.
“Come on, Valk.” Sterling dips his head, too, his tone laced with urgency. Rose begins to hum softly, her sweet voice weaving through the layers of desperation and tension.
Still, as the night thickens, so does my doubt. What if our prayers go unanswered? What if our goddesses see us as nothing more than tiny specks of dust in the wind? As just another set of insignificant voices to add to the cacophony of prayers from the rest of the city?
The air shifts, charged with an unworldly energy that raises the fine hairs on the back of my neck. I barely have time to exchange a glance with Sterling before she materializes.
A wispy, ethereal figure shimmers like heat haze in the summer. Full armor covers Valk from the ridge of her helm to the pointed metal boots on her feet. Not a single inch of flesh shows, and vibrant red light glows from the eye-slit in her helmet.
I want to call out, to explain, to implore her for understanding, but before I can gather my thoughts, her imperious voice slices through the night.
“Well, what do you want me to do? It wasn’t my shrine.”
Sterling stiffens. “No, but—”
“Humans can pray to whomever they choose, however weak those gods or goddesses may be. Isn’t that what you want?” Her unearthly gaze shifts to Rose. “Silence that child.”
I jerk, heart galloping. Rose appears confused and hurt by the goddess’s words, and a spark of anger flares to life in my chest.
I glance at Sterling. We both know the divine have their own set of rules, their own terrifying reasons and codes. “The stone warriors were driving people toward your shrine—”
“How dare you question godly matters, mortal. Know your place.” Valk’s words stab me with unexpected fury before she vanishes into the shadows.
The uneasy silence that follows vibrates with our confusion and disbelief. Sterling and I stare at each other, both reeling from the sheer audacity of the goddess’s dismissal.
“That was about as helpful as a spear to the eye,” Sterling grumbles.
As I pivot toward Rose, I notice Agnar heading toward us, his long limbs moving with purpose. My stomach sinks at his grave expression.
When he finally reaches us, I’m afraid I already know the answer before I even ask. “Well? What did they say?”
He runs a hand through his coppery hair and directs a flimsy smile at his niece. “Both goddesses showed up…eventually. I tried to explain what happened at the temple, but they claimed they already knew.”
“And didn’t care?” Storm clouds gather on Sterling’s handsome face as he surveys the damage.
“They cared…I think. But they were dismissive. Like politicians dodging questions.” Agnar shakes his head, frustration burning bright in his cerulean eyes.
“Belda recited their mantra a few times, ‘We seek only glory, not conflict,’ which was fun. Eventually, Fennelsa cut in with, ‘We have no comment on today’s events.’ Like I was some damned chronicle-keeper or something. ”
Rose interrupts by raising a bouquet of flowers. Her familiar glows above her shoulder, casting strange shadows on her face.
“Look, Uncle Agnar!” She beams. “I picked them for you.”
My heart warms at the sight.
For a moment, the weight of our fears feels distant, replaced by the simple joy of a child who gives without expectation. Agnar makes a big show of thanking Rose for the flowers and asks her to hold on to them until we get back to the palace.
An ache stirs within me at the stakes we face. “If the celestial attacks are directed at mortals, we’re in big trouble. Even if this has nothing at all to do with mortals, we’re still in big trouble.”
Agnar clucks his tongue. “Your pep talks could still use some work.”
I elbow him in the ribs before crossing my arms over my chest and gazing out across the sky. Near the horizon, the shadows deepen. “Either way, waiting for the next disaster isn’t an option.”
Agnar nods his agreement, but Sterling’s attention fixes on Rose, who’s tilted her head back all the way to peer up at the sky.
Her wide blue eyes reflect the starlight as she sighs. “The stars are swimming.”
A chill creeps into my bones. No one has any idea what she means, but I can’t shake the feeling that she senses things the rest of us miss.
I hesitate before asking the question. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”
Rose sighs again. “I don’t know yet.”