12. The Hidden Grove
The Hidden Grove
T he following morning, the High Priestess was waiting for us in the Sanctuary. Apparently, she’d returned shortly after dawn and secluded herself for prayer. She wasn’t finished yet, according to the acolyte who bore the message, but bid we join her at once.
The Sanctuary was the smallest of the buildings that made up the Temple complex, where the acolytes went to pray and commune with the gods. My boots sank into the snow as I trudged across the yard toward it, pulling my fur tighter against the bitter chill.
Lenn ushered me into the small rough-hewn building, casting a wary glance back to the main building where the dragons stayed behind. Though my Talons were able to enter the Sacred Forest if they accompanied me, that allowance did not grant them access to this most sacred of spaces.
Just as well. The Shadow’s display had left me feeling uneasy around them. I doubted they minded the separation either.
I stepped over the threshold, reveling in the cozy warmth beyond. But that comfort soon disappeared at the sight before me.
Lady Estrid sat before a bier, her face buried in her hands.
Candles placed in sconces along the walls cast long shadows over the small space.
Two thuribles hung from pegs on either side of the altar, smoke seeping out from the burning incense.
The cloying smell wafted over me; tree resin and bark, likely taken from the Holy Wardens.
Upon the bier, a figure lay stretched out, unmoving.
At our arrival, the High Priestess raised her haggard face.
“Your Majesty,” she breathed, standing up. Her graying blonde hair fell in stringy tendrils about her face, and her deep purple robes appeared dusty. In the dim light, the collection of delicate blue tattoos along her jaw and neck gave her a sickly look.
I moved toward her, shedding my fur cloak and draping it over the back of a low wooden bench. “What’s happened?” I asked, eyeing the prone figure.
She drew in a shaky breath and cast her golden-brown eyes toward the bier. “I tried to get back yesterday, Your Majesty. I had hoped our healers might be able to help him before he…” Her voice trailed off, gaze falling to the stone floor.
Lenn stepped carefully around me, moving toward the body for a closer look. After a moment, he jerked back, sucking a breath through his teeth and muttering a curse.
“He’s dead, Thane Reijason,” the High Priestess said, “the risk of infection is likely minimal.”
I craned my neck forward to look around him, my blood running cold when I realized what alarmed Lenn so.
The man lying on the bier was young—not much older than myself.
He wore the dark purple tunic of an acolyte, though the tiny golden hawthorn trees stitched on the shoulders told me he ranked highly in their order.
One who was afforded special duties and knowledge.
His dark hair was pushed back from his face, which seemed almost peaceful.
In his hands, he held a hawthorn branch.
A token of the Holy Wardens. And it was on his hands that the affliction was most easily seen.
The skin was already turning the bluish pallor of death, but the veins were pitch black, spidery tracks of infected blood running up his forearms. It was visible on his neck as well, weaving amongst his tattoos like choking vines.
“Bloodrot,” I muttered darkly, bringing a hand up to cover my mouth on instinct.
A mysterious illness, born long ago in the northern lands.
Since the end of the Drakon War over a thousand years ago, we’d experienced several outbreaks of the deadly disease, the last of which being about two-hundred years ago.
It ravaged our lands and killed an enormous portion of the population, as the historical texts reported it.
Small instances of infections within isolated communities had pervaded since then.
First, it weakened the body. The blood darkened in the veins, appearing on the hands and feet before working its way up. Near the end, as the infection spread to the brain, the afflicted person would lose all sense of reality and go mad. A horrible sight for anyone to see.
“I’m so sorry, Lady Estrid,” I offered, paltry though it was.
“Skarild was well just three days ago,” she said, crossing her arms. “This wasting disease moves quickly. I knew there was a danger, but I never imagined…” She shook her head, gaze downcast. “A thousand years this order has tried to find a cure for Bloodrot, and we are no closer today than we were then.”
Lenn stepped up behind me. “Where did he contract it?”
The disease was most prevalent in Clan Ylfring’s lands, where Lenn hailed from. I knew he still had family up there. If another resurgence was coming?—
“Near Fjollum.”
Lenn relaxed a bit. That was far enough north that a resurgence wasn’t likely to affect a widespread area.
And most of his family was in Weymar, the seat of Reynar’s holdings.
Still, the High Priestess had brought his body all the way back here.
Yes, the risk of infection after death was minimal, but it was still possible.
“What were you doing in Fjollum?” I asked her.
She looked between us as she seemed to debate something internally. After a moment’s silence, she nodded and smoothed out the skirt of her robe. “Come with me,” she said. Turning swiftly, she cast one last mournful glance at the bier.
I hurried after her, Lenn keeping pace as she led us to the back of the Sanctuary. A nondescript door sat directly behind the altar. My heart stuttered at the sight: the entrance to a place I’d never been allowed to go before.
What is it? the Shadow questioned faintly, her voice still weak. She didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what we’d witnessed. Last night’s unsettling nightmare and my abrupt loss of control over the darkthread sapped her of her strength.
I took a deep breath to calm my pulse. She’s taking us to the Hidden Grove.
Why? Her voice was suddenly clearer, and her awareness returned. Like a crow sitting upon my shoulder, surveying.
I don’t know, I confessed. Privacy’s sake, most likely.
The Shadow hummed in a low voice. Do you know what lies in the Hidden Grove, Asvoria?
Something in her tone rattled me. Not really, no. Mother only told me it was important that it remain protected, and that few were allowed to enter.
Lady Estrid stopped at the door, hand lingering on the knob. She looked at me over her shoulder. “As you are still new to your power, Your Majesty, and the things I am about to tell you will be unsettling… I will allow Thane Reijason entry to the Grove.”
Only the High Priestess, a few of her trusted acolytes, and the queen of Volmere were allowed to enter the Hidden Grove. The fact that she was allowing Lenn entry meant whatever she had to tell us was serious. The Shadow perked up a bit more.
Lenn couldn’t keep the surprise from his face. “My lady, are you certain? The gods?—”
“Will understand,” she cut in, giving him a knowing look. Without another word, she pushed the door open, bathing us in golden light. I raised my arm over my eyes against the blinding glow.
The Grove is not just important, Asvoria, the Shadow whispered, it is vital to the balance of this world. Tread carefully within.
I will. Lowering my arm, I followed behind the High Priestess, allowing the light to swallow me up.
Stepping through the door was like coming up for breath after too long underwater.
The weight that lifted from my chest dissipated before my eyes, spiraling away into the air in a shimmering cyclone.
I gasped at both the sensation and the sight, as though I could fully breathe for the first time in my life.
Lenn was coughing and sputtering next to me, hacking into his fist.
Lady Estrid walked in front of us, seemingly unaffected. “A release of negative spiritual energy,” she explained, not even looking back. “One of the many peculiarities of the Grove.”
I looked around us, trying to make sense of what I saw. ‘ Many peculiarities’ is an understatement, I thought. Only a moment before, we’d been within the Sanctuary, and outside lay a typical winter morning. But through this door…
Sunlight streamed through the canopy of trees above, dappling the vibrant green grass beneath our feet.
The call of a distant bird, its song unfamiliar to me, echoed through the heavy air.
A low hedge to my left rustled with the movement of some unseen creature.
The smell of honeysuckle and freshly tilled soil filled my nostrils.
And through the trees, a gentle summer breeze rustled the leaves and stirred my hair around my face.
“How is this possible?” I breathed, gazing all around. It looked like the forest outside our summer estate in Beruvik, if not for the way the air sparkled. When I looked behind me, there sat the door we’d come through, nestled between two thick oak trees.
“Follow me,” was all Lady Estrid said, making her way down a lightly worn path.
I turned to Lenn, who looked as befuddled as I felt. He shrugged in response and removed his mass of furs from his shoulders, folding them over an arm.
Do as she says, Asvoria, the Shadow urged softly.
I drew in deep breath at her instruction, still unsure. For all the beauty this place held, I couldn’t ignore the nagging suspicion that the splendor was nothing more than a mask. That something here was lying in wait, biding its time.
Regardless of my reluctance, the two of us followed the High Priestess blindly.
The path wound between the trees, leading us down a gradual slope.
Acorns littered the ground beneath the canopy, and smooth, round stones lined the way.
Somewhere in the distance, the gentle murmur of a stream sounded through the forest.
As the hill leveled out, the trees thinned. Around the next bend in the path, a little cottage emerged, situated in a glade bathed in shimmering sunlight.
What is this, Shadow?
The High Priestess spends much of her time here, she said. I believe she sleeps here most nights.
Inside the Grove?
The Shadow hummed quietly, rolling up and down. The better to do her duties.
Which are what, exactly?
Patience, child! the Shadow snapped, flaring up in anger. Ask your questions of the right people and spare yourself a mountain of frustration in the process.
With a flinch, I drew away from her ire. I’d never felt it that intensely before, and its sting was more painful than I’d anticipated. Apologies, I said tightly, coming to a stop in front of the thatched-roof cottage.
Lady Estrid halted at the door, holding her palm flat against the rough wood and bowing her head.
“ Hníga sá gata,” she breathed, and the door swung inward soundlessly.
I glanced over at Lenn, his brow furrowed as he looked at the surrounding forest. The High Priestess stepped through the door without motioning for us to follow.
“In my wildest dreams,” Lenn said quietly, “I could never imagine such a place.”
“Something about it feels… wrong.” Speaking the suspicion aloud was heavier than keeping it locked within.
“Hmm?” he grunted, finally looking at me. “What do you mean, Vor?”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure. Maybe just my imagination...” Or a byproduct of the nightmare that had visited me. Not wanting Lenn to question further, I stepped over the threshold and into the space beyond.
The interior of the cottage was yet another impossibility.
From the outside, it looked to hold no more than two or three rooms. But soaring to ceilings twice the height of the exterior were shelves and cabinets, all filled to the brim with books and scrolls.
The cases were only interrupted by several windows dotting the perimeter of the wall, allowing natural light to brighten the space.
In the center of the room sat an enormous table, its surface covered with parchment maps and massive tomes opened to various pages. Lady Estrid stood by the table, running a finger over one of the maps.
My heart raced as I joined her. “What is this place?” I asked, equal parts excited and concerned. Was this some kind of projection, like the Stitchers of Clan Riis conjured?
“My study,” she said absently.
I looked once more at the walls stuffed with reading material. “And how is it, uh… so big?”
The High Priestess looked up, a sympathetic smile on her face. “I’m sorry to thrust all this upon you so suddenly, Your Majesty,” she said. “I wish there was more time.”
My mother’s face flashed in my mind. I bit down on my lip, ignoring the hot tears that suddenly pricked at my eyes. “So do I.”
Lenn placed a comforting hand on my back. “Lady Estrid…” His voice trailed off, the request fading into silence.
She exhaled a long breath. “Right. You’d better sit down.”