Chapter 20 #2
“You speak true.” He guessed, seeing the wagons filled with wounded. “Why, then, do you conceal yourself?”
Using Percy’s drafted story, I pushed melancholy into my words. “I was traveling for a funeral. I mean to honor him, regardless.”
Narrowing his eyes, Sir Percivus directed his horse to circle me. His eyes scoured every inch of my face and body.
“You think you can fool me?” He growled. “You think I haven’t heard of the Bloodstone’s thieves? Of the impersonators who stole my name?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Perhaps some time in the dungeons will jog your memory.”
A brown mare broke from the caravan, riding to my side. Percy lifted his hat, revealing his face. “Father,” He said cautiously, before enthusiasm flooded his tone. “Father! It’s been so long. Why don’t we just calm down and talk about this, like civilized folk?”
“I should have known.” Sir Percivus eyed his son with disappointment. “Arrest them!” He barked. “Search the caravan—there’s more of them.”
“Wait,” I called. “We have royal immunity. By decree of the king, you can do no harm to us.”
The bullshit flowed smoothly from my mouth. Sir Percivus held up a fist, ordering his men to halt. “Speak.”
“We’re under the service of the Archon.” I continued. “We’ve been granted pardon from our sins in exchange for our labor.”
“Really? And what has the Archon ordered you to do?”
“Warn you,” I said. “Of our impending doom.”
* * *
Things had gone better than I expected. Sir Percivus had ordered his men to guide the refugees into the city, sending one man back to the gates to deliver word of their forthcoming arrival.
The five of us were instead shepherded away by the officer himself and a unit of temple knights, dressed in glittering steel and sea-blue tabards.
We were to be brought before the governor. But in Therapne, the governor was also the Grand Cleric. The truth would fall upon his ears like flaming coals. Heresy. My mind whirled as we rode, coming up with a story to see us from his chambers in one piece.
Seas, Therapne was beautiful. And distracting. The buildings were tall and thin, elegant shafts of marble supported by beautifully carved pillars and beams. Rivers and streams rushed through the plains, cutting through gardens of flowers with quaint stone bridges crossing the drink.
Four statues stood watch over the city, one for each of the gods. The Maiden, foremost of them all, stood facing north, her hooded countenance watching over our arrival.
Sir Percivus led us to the grand temple, an even more impressive edifice than Serifos’. I marveled at the high ceiling and the ancient murals carved into the stone: an entire tapestry, portraying the tale of the Maiden, wrapped around the building.
The officer’s heavy boots clinked on the stone path as he dismounted, and he ordered us to follow suit.
Climbing off Athena, I hurried to Seraphim’s side.
She looked down at me and winked, perhaps pleased with the story I’d woven.
The three men joined us. Corralled into the center of the knights, we were guided inside.
An enormous antechamber greeted us, lit by a chandelier the size of a carriage hanging above a statue of the Maiden pouring water from an urn into a basin.
News of our arrival must have preceded us; several members of the clergy already gathered around the statue, clad in white with pale blue scarves.
A middle-aged man with graying black hair was the most senior of the lot, denoted by a wide-brimmed hat decorated with dangling tassels. His harsh green eyes settled on Sir Percivus.
“What is the meaning of this—” He trailed off, face blanching when he noticed Eleos. Silence overtook him before anger prevailed, his face trembling with rage. “How dare you set foot in these halls again?”
Eleos glared bitterly at the Grand Cleric. “I didn’t have much choice. Your men dragged me here.”
Any plans I’d made shattered. Whirling around, I stared at Eleos in shock.
The Grand Priest pointed at him, hand shaking with fury. “You.” He seethed. “You were the ones who stole the Maiden’s relic. We heard the news. Read your descriptions. I should have known!” He glanced around, eyeing the pair of guards with the officer. “Search them!”
“You’ve misunderstood.” I blurted out as one guard seized Eleos, and the other grabbed Seraphim. “We didn’t steal the Bloodstone—we were ordered to bring it to you.”
Sir Percivus glanced at me before addressing the Cleric. “She claims the Archon sent them, your holiness. Coupled with the news from Red Bluff, we should hear them out.”
“Red Bluff?” The Grand Cleric repeated. “What of it?”
“The Empty has taken it,” Seraphim said, ripping from the guard’s grip. “The few who survived have come here seeking refuge.”
The Grand Cleric’s eye twitched. Focusing on me, he pushed past the others and towered over me. “You have one chance to explain.”
“The Bloodstone has lost its power,” I said, speaking before I’d fully formed my lie. “We were ordered to bring it here, in hopes it could be restored. Ikaria’s High Priest opposed the idea, and—”
“The Bloodstone has not waned in a thousand years. What could have possibly caused such a tragedy?”
“But it has!” I protested. “Every year the Empty closes in, its power diminishes—”
“Heresy.” The Grand Cleric hissed. “The Bloodstone will remain pure until it shields the final city from the end. From its lifeblood, the Maiden will rise anew.”
Falling silent, I tried to maintain composure. The final city was spoken of in prophecy, but rarely mentioned in sermons. I’d slipped up.
Gods, why hadn’t I gone to church more often?
“Take these thieves to the dungeons.” The Grand Cleric snapped.
A temple knight grabbed my arms, but I fought out of his grip. “You don’t understand. The Maiden’s blessing has departed the Bloodstone—and entered a new host.”
Gasps rose from the priests before a hush blanketed the chamber. Seth’s molten gaze burned into my back. I stiffened, trying not to look at him.
Lines of fury painted the Grand Cleric’s face. “And what do you claim bears her blessing?”
“Me,” I said.
Stepping back, the Grand Cleric snapped at the temple knights. “Did you find it?”
“Your holiness.” The guard who’d apprehended Seraphim bowed, offering the Bloodstone.
Taking the relic, the Grand Cleric studied the red stone with hazy eyes. Snapping from his thoughts, he glowered at me. “You dare claim to grasp the Maiden’s grace? You? A mere mortal?”
“I . . .” I floundered, searching for a path forward. “No one expected—”
The grand Cleric seized my wrist and yanked me toward him. “Let’s test your claims, then.” Pulling me painfully, he dragged me toward the statue of the Maiden rising from the center of the room.
“Don’t touch her,” Eleos snarled, fighting against his guard’s grip.
“If you speak the truth,” The Grand Cleric beckoned for one of the guards to approach. “Your blood flows with her blessing.” The guard drew his blade and bowed, offering it to the Grand Cleric. “And the Maiden will save you.”
Percy tried to stop Seth as he lunged forward. Guards fell upon both of them. One crashed into Percy, restraining his arms behind his back. The other tried to tackle Seth, to no success.
Ducking out of the knight’s grip, Seth bit his knuckles, and blood trickled down his hand. A scarlet blade grew in his palm as the temple knight drew his spear.
Their clash lasted only a moment. Seth batted away the knight’s spear and twisted the shaft from his grip before slamming his blade into the knight’s helm, sending him to the ground. Whirling around, he raised his sword to throw at my captor.
A blade touched my throat as the Grand Cleric grabbed my collar. “Stop,” he shouted. “Or I’ll kill her outright.”
Seth’s grip tensed on his blade as he eyed the Grand Cleric’s sword. Snarling, he released his spell, letting the blade fall. Lunging forward, a second knight quickly restrained Seth, but I couldn’t tell if the hatred twisting his face was meant for the Grand Cleric or me.
How quickly I’d walked back on my promise to keep my magic secret.
“Good.” The Grand Cleric dragged the sword to my shoulder. “Now let the goddess reveal your blasphemy.”
Wincing, I tensed as the Grand Cleric slashed the blade across my arm. Blood poured from the wound, spilling into the basin at the Maiden’s feet. A few splotches landed on the hand restraining me, dripping from the Grand Cleric’s fingers onto the Bloodstone he clutched in his palm.
A faint glow emanated from the stone. A soft thrum. The wrath etched on the Cleric’s face vanished, and he paled, dropping my arm as he held aloft the Maiden’s Bloodstone. He blinked at it in awe before whirling around and staring in horror at the blood streaming from my arm.
Eleos spoke up, his voice filled with a hatred I’d never heard. “You’ve spilled the Maiden’s Blood. Get on your knees before her and beg her forgiveness. Heretic.”