Book of The Dead

She awoke in a cold sweat, again.

With a faint shake in her hand, Elsbeth wiped her hair back from her forehead and sat up. The same dream, every night. She gripped her shoulders, arms crossing in front of her chest as she took deep breaths until her shivering ceased.

For a week, she had seen the same thing whenever she closed her eyes. The Dark Forest, so heavy with age that the very air groaned under the weight of forbidden secrets, the Messenger, a creature of shadow and guile, who guided her through those woods each night. No matter how she struggled, or tried to protest, or to flee, she couldn’t. That same blanket lay across her mind that she experienced on her first visit and she had been powerless to resist it, wandering in a daze through the woods as the Messenger dripped honey in her ears with its sibilant voice.

What do they want with me?

She asked herself the same thing every morning, and always arrived at the same conclusion. It wasn’t a secret after all, she had been told, over and over again, they wanted her devotion. They wanted a priestess.

But who were they? She had never heard of these entities who invaded her dreams uninvited. And why did they want her? How did they even know who she was? Troubled in her heart, she rose and prepared herself for the day. Perhaps if she could ignore it long enough, it all would go away, the dreams would cease and she could move on with her life.

Downstairs, she found Worthy and Megan busy in the common room, setting tables and lighting the fire.

”You’re opening the inn?” she asked, surprised.

Megan looked up at her and smiled.

”Yes. We felt we’d been lazy long enough.”

”Wouldn’t want the regulars to abandon us,” Worthy chuckled as he wiped down the tables.

”Let me help!” Elsbeth said as she jumped down the last few stairs, eager to be of assistance.

The three set to the task with good cheer, a positive air bloomed within the Steelarm Inn for the first time since she had been staying there. Soon enough, the room was ready, the food was bubbling in the pot and Worthy had polished the bar to a mirror shine. With a broad grin on his face, Worthy threw open the door and let the cool morning air into the common room.

No customers were waiting outside the door, hardly a surprise after they’d been closed for a week. In the lull, Elsbeth sat down to eat breakfast and talk.

”Did you manage to talk to my father yesterday, Worthy?” she asked hopefully as she tucked into a plate of Megan’s porridge.

Worthy paused in his stride, before he sighed and nodded.

”Aye, lass, I did.”

”And?” she asked nervously.

”He’s a stubborn old bastard, your dad, no doubt about it. I tried to talk some sense into the man, but he refuses to see sense. I think this whole thing has been a shock to him and he’s trying to get control back the only way he knows how.”

”As if he’s had it worse than I have,” she said bitterly.

Worthy planted a huge, calloused hand on top of her golden head.

”Don’t be too hard on him. His perfect daughter is suffering for the first time in his life and he doesn’t know what to do to make it right. He wants what’s best for you, believe that, if nothing else.”

She teared up and looked down at her bowl before she nodded and resumed eating. Her father would come around, he had to. She couldn’t imagine not being allowed back into her own family home. The thought of it terrified her. She wished she could go and talk to her mother, or her brothers, but she knew going home would only result in another fight.

”I think I’ll go and visit the temple today,” she forced herself to smile and said cheerfully. ”It would be nice to visit the sisters and pray.”

”Sure thing, lass. Take your time.”

Despite his misgivings, he gave her one last pat on the head before he moved behind the bar, ready to greet any visitors who darkened his door. It didn’t take long, Elsbeth still hadn’t finished her meal before the first customer of the day poked his head cautiously through the entrance.

”Oi, Worthy! You open today?”

”Clyde, you old dog. Come in and let me get you a drink.”

”Thank god. I’ve been dry all week.”

In moments the two men were engaged in friendly banter and laughter rang out in the common room for the first time in seven days. Elsbeth smiled as she felt something in her heart lighten. Despite everything that had changed, it was wonderful for something as mundane as this to return as it had been before the Awakening.

She finished her breakfast in peace, thanked Meagan in the kitchen and eyed the stew she was already preparing for lunch, before she washed up and made her way out the door.

A subdued atmosphere still hung over Foxbridge, the shaken nerves of the townsfolk couldn’t be restored in seven short days after what Magnin and Beory had done. It was difficult to reconcile the friendly and outgoing adventurers she had known all of her life with the two who had torn the Mayor’s farm asunder and cast such a pall of fear over everyone.

Nobody had ever crossed Tyron before. Maybe now I know why.

Her friend had made it easy to avoid stepping on his toes, being as quiet and studious as he’d been.

She shied her thoughts away from considering the Steelarms. She had no intention of dwelling on Tyron or her dreams today, she simply wished to enter the temple and pray. In the back of her mind she’d been thinking of her status all week and she intended to ask the divines for guidance. She hadn’t performed the status ritual since the Awakening, as she knew she would be required to choose a Divine to serve when she did.

The streets were quiet as she made her way through the centre of town.

”Good morning, Elsbeth,” she heard a voice call.

She turned to see Mr Patterson heave a board full of fresh loaves onto the outside display as he groaned with the effort.

”Good morning. When did you decide to open up again?”

The old man shrugged his shoulders as he brushed excess flour from his hands.

”Can’t keep the place shut forever now can I? People need bread. At least, I hope they do!”

She smiled at him and he gave her a wink.

”Looks like the town isn’t going to get knocked down any time soon, so we might as well get back to it. We’re surprised to be frontier folk out here, aren’t we? We shouldn’t scare so easy.”

”You’ve been shut for a week,” she reminded him gently.

The baker waggled his eyebrows at her.

”I didn’t exclude myself! I need to harden up too! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got more bread to put out.”

She walked away with a little more spring in her step until she rounded the corner and beheld the temple, when her feet froze.

Don’t think about it.

”Don’t think about it, Elsbeth,” she said out loud.

She decisively pushed aside all memory of her previous visit and stepped forward, walking inside the low stone wall that surrounded the temple and through the open double doors. A sister stood at the entrance and Elsbeth did not glance at her as she walked past, instead she chose to keep her gaze focused forward. She was not here for the sisters who had rejected her.

She was here for the gods.

Inside the central chamber she felt immediately at peace. The cool stone floor, the columns that supported the vaulted roof high overhead, the five statues depicting the five divines, each with their own candlelit altar. She had spent so much time here, assisting in the day to day running of the temple, preparing for festivals, tending to those in need. She’d felt she could have lived her whole life here.

In the centre of the far wall, in pride of place and looking out over the chamber with imperious serenity stood Selene, her altar dominating the space as was only fitting since this temple was dedicated to her. Elsbeth steeled her nerves and looked up at the statue, meeting the goddess’ gaze.

Depicted as a flawless beauty, the Goddess wore a long gown that flowed over her form, a flame cupped in her left hand, a wreath in the other.

In the past she had always felt a sense of wonder and warmth come over her as she prayed under the visage of Selene, had always felt that the divinity supported her with a strong hand on her shoulder. That feeling was gone now. She felt nothing but cold.

”She doesn’t want you.”

Elsbeth schooled herself and managed to not flinch away.

”I’m aware of that,” she replied without turning.

”Then why are you here?” she didn’t need to see the face of sister Kiria to picture her sneer. What hurt the most was the sheer venom the woman packed into that short sentence.

”Is the temple closed to those who seek the wisdom of the divines?”

”…no.”

She almost rolled her eyes before she turned and faced the sister. Kiria drew back, as if surprised that Elsbeth would dare look her in the eye, her eyes widening, though the curl of her lip didn’t diminish at all.

”Am I allowed to come and pray, or would you rather I leave?”

It was clear which of them she would prefer, but Kiria didn’t rise to the bait.

”Things are different now you’re not Mother’s little pet, right? You can’t go swanning around as if you’re better than us now.”

Elsbeth stared at her.

”Better than you? I wanted to be one of you,” she said, flabbergasted. ”All I ever wanted was to join this temple.”

”One of us? Rule over us, more like. You’d fancied yourself the next Mother, don’t even bother trying to deny it. Everyone knew.”

To emphasise her point she stretched out a finger and poked Elsbeth on the chest.

”You must have been so pleased when you Awakened as a Priestess, not a humble Sister like us.”

”I was.”

”Would have worked out for you too, if only you’d have managed to keep your legs shut,” the sister hissed.

She closed her eyes and tried to stop the tears from welling in her eyes. To think that ever this place had changed so much. Or perhaps it had always been like this, and she’d simply never seen it. The jealousy and ill-will hidden from view so an unawakened child wouldn’t be exposed.

When she looked again she could see the glint of triumph in the older woman’s eyes. She knew she’d hurt her, and was pleased.

”I remember when Dalroy, the farm boy, broke his leg during calving season. Do you? He was only nine, red faced and bawling. It wasn’t even the pain that bothered him the most, but the fear, I think. Maybe it was the sight of the blood, or maybe it was the first time he’d ever experienced something like it, but he was so afraid.”

Elsbeth looked Kiria in the eye as she continued to speak.

”You sat with him the entire time he was here. You soothed him, helped take away his pain and let him cry on your shoulder until he finally fell asleep, hours later. Do you remember that?”

The Sister frowned.

”I do.”

”You were so sympathetic, you couldn’t stand to see that little boy in pain and did everything you could to help it go away. So why…”

She stepped forward, glaring through glistening eyes at the other woman.

”… the fuck, are you getting so much joy out of my pain?”

Kiria recoiled and spluttered but Elsbeth didn’t give her a chance to reply.

”And if you care to, you might remember who else sat with Dalroy that day, who was inspired by your devotion, and who hoped they might grow up to be just like you one day. If any speck of the Kiria I looked up to remains in you, then go away. Go away, and let me pray.”

Despite her best efforts, her voice broke at the end, and the tears she had tried to hold onto finally spilled over and began to run down her cheeks but she refused to wipe them away, instead she glared at her once-friend until Kiria looked away, uncomfortable.

After a long pause, the Sister spoke again.

”Just say your prayers and go.”

So saying, she turned and walked away, leaving Elsbeth to wipe her cheeks and collect herself before she walked to the nearest shrine and prepared to pray. She did her best to put the confrontation behind her, she had come for a purpose and nothing could be allowed to distract from that.

The shrine to Tel’anan was the closest and she knelt to pay her respects to the fallen god of magick. Like most places of worship dedicated to him, the statue atop the plinth showed him weeping, his eyes closed and void in his chest where his heart would be. She felt nothing as she clasped her hands and opened her mind to the presence of the god, Tel’anan was no longer there to comfort the faithful who came to him, but she still tried out of respect.

To the right of the dead god’s shrine stood that of Orthriss, the steadfast defender and guardian of civilisation. His statue showed him as a hearty and powerful warrior, an enormous tower shield held in front with his broadsword still held across his back.

Orthriss was considered a kind god, one who valued strength of mind just as much as strength of arm, though a fierce warrior when called on. He was the deity most followed by priests who fought and served among slayers, battling the rifts to protect the people. She wasn’t confident she would ever be a warrior, but perhaps Orthriss would find use for her service?

Heart beating with anticipation, she approached the shrine and knelt, opening herself to the will of Orthriss.

But, she felt… nothing.

She frowned for a moment before she closed her eyes and concentrated, as she’d learned to as a youth, focusing on the will of the divine so that she might sense their presence. Except it wasn’t there. She tried again. Then again. Nothing.

Perhaps she was too disturbed by Kiria to find the proper focus?

She tried to assure herself that was the likely reason, but inside a traitorous voice whispered that she had been abandoned by all of the divines, that none of them would deign to listen to her. She squashed that impulse and stood before she walked across the temple to the opposite wall.

The two remaining shrines in the temple represented Hamar and Lofis. Hamar the agile and clever, Lord of games, music, roads and invention. Lofis, the mistress of seasons, harvest, growth and death.

She had never felt close to either of the two divines, but now she knelt before the shrine to Lofis, desperate to feel the warm presence of the deity.

Perhaps she had expected it, but the lack of response she felt crushed her all the same. She knelt and prayed to Lofis for half an hour before she rose, defeated, struggling to contain herself. She felt certain that Hamar too would reject her, but she couldn’t leave without at least trying to earn his favour. But he too was silent and unresponsive in the face of her pleas.

Defeated, Elsbeth choked back her emotions and strode from the temple with all the dignity she could muster. Her vision became blurry as she reached the street outside, but she fought against the tears all the way back to the Inn. When she stepped inside, she could contain herself no longer. She rushed through the common room, past a surprised looking Worthy and ran upstairs, into the room they had lent her, where she collapsed into the bed and wept herself to exhaustion.

When it felt as if there were no tears left in her, finally she fell asleep.

And dreamed.

Of the creaking woods, and ancient winds of the Dark Forest.