9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Kya
T he morning of the Trial, I maneuvered my weary horse through a forest at the southern end of Dusan and beyond the treeline at the base of a grassy hill.
We kept off the common path to avoid passersby and any possible adversaries.
I rode for three days straight, stopping only to eat and rest for a few hours at night.
I probably pushed the old mare more laboriously than I should have, but I wanted to spend as much time as I possibly could at Morah before I had to leave. And we arrived right when I intended.
“Well done mare. We made it,” I sighed.
We came upon monumental boulders that were scattered along the hill—a result of the formation of the Rip—indicating the grounds of the temple. At the top of the hill sat the square-shaped Temple of Odes. The back side of the temple rested directly at the edge of the Rip.
An enormous, jagged chasm cut through the land, so wide that you couldn’t see the other side with your naked eye.
This was where Odes fell. It was a sight unlike any other.
Black mists swirled just beneath the cliff’s edge and down into the bottomless abyss of the Rip.
The sight was ethereal and unsettling. No matter how many times I laid my eyes on the chasm, I still found myself overwhelmed with astonishment at the world’s scar.
My horse nickered as we made our way up the hill and navigated through the various tents on the grounds, some cloth and others made of rock protruding from the land.
The Lord or Lady of each Nation were required to attend the Trial as well.
They were forced to engage in a challenge with the emerging Worthy to keep their title or lose their life.
It was a cruel but necessary system, and was sanctioned by the Sages.
With the use of an elixir, the current Lords and Ladies would have their magic temporarily nullified since the new Worthy were untrained with their new magic.
At least they somewhat leveled out the field.
In order to keep the magical balance, there could only be six Worthy alive at one time—one for each of the remaining Gods and their Nations. The Worthy of Gaol was chosen by Noxelia. Dusan was loyal to Udon. Torx, Cethar. Oryn, Xareus. And Ulrik, Ayen.
However, there had only ever been five Worthy at one given time.
One of the Goddesses, Kleio, had never chosen a contestant.
Not once in the past few millennia of Trials, and no one knew why.
She was known as the Silent God. Her land was Atara, and the only Nation with a Lady that was chosen not by the Gods, but by the people.
Maybe that’s why it was destroyed, it angered the Gods that a non-Worthy was the Lady of a Nation.
I made my way to the towering square monument built of white stone.
Its roof, five stories above the ground, was a dome made of one continuous piece of glass.
It was breathtaking to stand at the base and look upon the sacred temple.
I tied my chestnut horse to a post at a trough with other horses of all colors and sizes, then took off her saddle and pitched my tent closer to the trees, away from the Rip.
I patted her sweat-covered neck. “I will see you soon.” I hoped that I wasn’t lying to her.
The contestants had until the sun was at its peak to report to the temple, so I stayed in the shade of my tent, preparing the necessary mentality—going to the dark recesses within my mind, that of a Roav.
The cloth doors were tied open to let the breeze cool the sweat dripping down my body as I sat with my legs folded beneath me and performed a series of breathing exercises.
The breeze brought with it a faint, appealing scent of cedar and bergamot, and something else I couldn’t place.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeper, the scent seemed to reach my core as I instantly felt heat of another kind.
This is not the time to get turned on.
I must have been losing my mind. The stress from the impending Trial was getting to me, I was sure of it. I shook my head, trying to clear my mind of inappropriate thoughts, and concentrated once again.
I looked at my Trial mark, the glow from the swirls and symbols had grown more faint during my travels the closer I got to the temple, and was nearly gone now.
I stayed in my tent for the rest of the morning, until the sun rose to midday, when some of the contestants started heading into the temple.
I quickly strapped my thighs with a pair of daggers, my bow and quiver across my back, and another set of daggers concealed at the small of my back, the holster already underneath my leathers.
Lengths of rope and a canteen with water were attached to my belt.
The only thing the contestants were allowed to bring to the Trial was what we could carry on our bodies, nothing more. I shrugged to myself.
No matter. I don’t need anything more .
I exited the tent and made my way to the temple. Squaring my shoulders, I held my chin high, portraying confidence to those around me. Yet, I felt a hole form in the pit of my stomach and my palms began to sweat as I ascended the marble stairs and crossed the threshold into the Odes’s Temple.
The glow of my mark finally winked out. The Trial had begun.